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SBRTi  .. 

ACR 

14O  PACIFIC    -vt.Mj* 
VKACH     CAUI" 


FROM 
A  GIRL'S   POINT  OF   VIEW 


LILIAN    BELL 

AUTHOR  OF  "THE  LOVE  AFFAIRS  OF  AN  OLD  MAID' 

"A    LITTLE   SISTER   TO    THB   WILDERNESS" 

"  THE  UNDER  SIDE  OF  THINGS  "  ETC. 


NEW   YORK   AND   LONDON 

HARPER  &   BROTHERS   PUBLISHERS 

I8Q7 


BY  LILIAN   BELL 


THE  LOVE  AFFAIRS  OF  AN  OLD  MAID.    16mo,  Cloth, 
Ornamental,  Uncut  Edges  and  Gilt  Top,  $1  25. 

.  . .  The  love  affairs  of  an  old  maid  are  not  her  own,  but 
other  people's,  and  in  this  volume  we  have  the  love  trials 
and  joys  of  a  variety  of  persons  described  and  analyzed. 
.  .  .  The  peculiarity  of  this  book  is  that  each  tyne  is  per- 
fectly distinct,  clear,  and  interesting.  .  .  .  Altogether  the 
book  is  by  far  the  best  of  those  recently  written  on  the 
tender  passion. — Cincinnati  Commercial-Gazette. 

THE  UNDER  SIDE  OF  THINGS.   A  Novel.   16mo,  Cloth, 
Ornamental,  Uncut  Edges  and  Gilt  Top,  $1  25. 

A  tenderly  beautiful  story.  .  .  .  This  book  is  Miss 
Bell's  best  effort,  and  most  in  the  line  of  what  we  hope 
to  see  her  proceed  in,  dainty  and  keen  and  bright,  and 
always  full  of  the  fine  warmth  and  tenderness  of  splen- 
did womanhood.— Interior,  Chicago. 

PUBLISHED  BY  HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  NEW  YORK. 


Copyright,  1897,  by  HARPER  &  BROTHERS. 

Alt  rights  rtitrvcd. 


WITH     MANY     APPREHENSIONS     TO 
THE  DULL  READER 

WHO   WILL   INSIST   UPON   TAKING 
EVERYTHING   IN   THIS   BOOK   LITERALLY 


2061770 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

THE  UNTRAINED  MAN  UNDER  THIRTY-FIVE.  3 

THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  CLOTHES 23 

WOMAN'S  RIGHTS  IN  LOVE 39 

MEN  AS  LOVERS Gi 

LOVE-MAKING  AS  A  FINE  ART 79 

GIRLS  AND  OTHER  GIRLS 97 

ON  THE  SUBJECT  OF  HUSBANDS 113 

A  FEW  MEN  WHO  I.ORE  Us : 

THE  SELF-MADE  MAN 131 

THE  DYSPEPTIC 139 

THE  TOO-ACCURATE  MAN 147 

THE  IRRESISTIBLE  MAN 156 

THE  STUPID  MAN 163 

THE  NEW  WOMAN 177 


THE    UNTRAINED    MAN    UNDER 
THIRTY-FIVE 

Since  we  deserved  the  name  of  friends, 
And  thine  effect  so  lives  in  me, 
A  part  of  mine  may  live  in  thee, 

And  move  thee  on  to  nobler  ends." 


THE    UNTRAINED    MAN    UNDER 
THIRTY-FIVE 


EVERY  woman  has  had,  at  some  time  in 
her  life,  an  experience  with  man  in  the  raw. 
In  reality,  one  cannot  set  down  with  any 
degree  of  accuracy  the  age  when  his  raw- 
ness attacks  him,  or  the  time  when  he  has 
got  the  last  remnant  of  it  out  of  his  system. 
But  a  close  study  of  the  complaint,  and  the 
necessity  for  pigeon-holing  everything  and 
everybody,  lead  one  to  declare  that  some- 
where in  the  vicinity  of  the  age  of  thirty-five 
man  emerges  from  his  rawness  and  becomes 
a  part  of  trained  humanity  —  a  humanity 
composed  of  men  and  women  trained  in  the 
art  of  living  together. 

I  am  impressed  with  Professor  Horton's 
remarks  on  this  subject:  "It  has  sometimes 
struck  me  as  very  singular,"  he  says,  "  that 


4  THE   UNTRAINED    MAN 

while  nothing  is  so  common  and  nothing  is 
so  difficult  as  living  with  other  people,  we 
are  seldom  instructed  in  our  youth  how  to 
do  it  well.  Our  knowledge  of  the  subject 
is  acquired  by  experience,  chiefly  by  fail- 
ures. And  by  the  time  that  we  have  toler- 
ably mastered  the  delicate  art,  we  are  on 
the  point  of  being  called  to  the  isolation  of 
the  grave — or  shall  I  say  to  the  vast  com- 
pany of  the  Majority  ? 

"  But  an  art  of  so  much  practical  moment 
deserves  a  little  more  consideration.  It 
should  not  be  taught  by  chance,  or  in  frag- 
ments, but  duly  deployed,  expounded,  and 
enforced.  It  is  of  far  more  pressing  im- 
portance, for  example,  than  the  art  of  play- 
ing the  piano  or  the  violin,  and  is  quite  as 
difficult  to  learn. 

"  It  is  written,  '  It  is  not  good  that  man 
should  be  alone  ' ;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  it 
is  often  far  from  good  to  be  with  him.  A 
docile  cat  is  preferable,  a  mongoose,  or  even 
a  canary.  Indeed,  for  want  of  proper  in- 
struction, a  large  number  of  the  human  race, 
as  they  are  known  in  this  damp  and  foggy 
island,  are  'gey  ill  to  live  wi','  and  no  one 


UNDER    THIRTY-FIVE  5 

would  attempt  it  but  for  charity  and  the 
love  of  God." 

Now  who  but  women  are  responsible  for 
the  training  of  men  ?  If  the  mother  has 
neglected  her  obvious  duty  in  training  her 
son  to  be  a  livable  portion  of  humanity, 
who  but  the  girls  must  take  up  her  lost 
opportunities  ?  It  is  with  the  class  of  men 
whose  mothers  have  neglected  to  train  them 
in  the  art  of  living  that  we  have  to  deal ; 
the  man  with  whom  feminine  influence — 
refining,  broadening,  softening,  graciously 
smoothing  out  soul- wrinkles,  and  gener- 
ously polishing  off  sharp  mental  corners 
— has  had  no  part.  It  need  not  necessarily 
mean  men  who  have  not  encountered  fem- 
inine influence,  but  it  does  mean  those  who 
never  have  yielded  to  it.  The  natural  and 
to-be-looked-for  conceit  of  youth  may  have 
been  the  barrier  which  prevented  their 
yielding.  There  is  a  time  when  the  youth 
of  twenty  knows  more  than  any  one  on 
earth  could  teach  him,  and  more  than  he 
ever  will  know  again  ;  a  time  when,  no 
matter  how  kind  his  heart,  he  is  incased  in 
a  mental  haughtiness  before  which  plain 


6  THE    UNTRAINED    MAN 

Wisdom  is  dumb.  But  a  time  will  come  when 
the  keenness  of  some  girl's  stiletto  of  wit 
will  prick  the  empty  bubble  of  his  flamboy- 
ant egoism,  and  he  will,  for  the  first  time, 
learn  that  he  is  but  an  untrained  man  under 
thirty-five. 

This  elastic  classification  does  not  ob- 
tain with  either  geniuses  or  fools.  It  deals 
with  the  average  man  as  the  average  girl 
knows  him,  and  may  refer  to  every  man  in 
her  acquaintance  or  only  to  one.  It  certain- 
ly must  refer  to  one  !  Misery  loves  company 
to  such  an  extent  that  I  could  not  bear  to 
think  that  there  was  any  girl  living  who  did 
not  occasionally  have  to  grapple  with  the 
problem  of  at  least  one  man  in  the  raw,  if 
only  for  her  own  discipline. 

You  cannot  argue  with  the  untrained  man 
under  thirty -five.  In  fact,  I  never  argue 
with  anybody,  either  man  or  woman,  be- 
cause women  are  not  reasonable  beings  and 
men  are  too  reasonable.  I  never  am  will- 
ing to  follow  a  chain  of  reasoning  to  its 
logical  conclusion,  because,  if  I  do,  men  can 
make  me  admit  so  many  things  that  are  not 
true.  I  abhor  a  syllogism.  Alas,  how  often 


UNDER    THIRTY-FIVE  7 

have  I  picked  my  cautious  way  through 
three-quarters  of  one,  only  to  sit  down  at 
the  critical  moment,  declaring  I  would  not 
go  another  step,  and  then  to  hear  some 
argumentative  man  cry,  "But  you  admitted 
all  previous  steps.  Don't  you  know  that 
this  naturally  must  follow  ?"  Well,  perhaps 
it  does  follow,  only  I  don't  believe  it  is 
true.  It  may  be  very  clever  of  the  men  to 
reason,  and  perhaps  I  am  very  stupid  not 
to  be  able  to  admit  the  truth  of  their  con- 
clusions, but  I  feel  like  declaring  with  Josh 
Billings,  "  Td  rather  not  know  so  much 
than  to  know  so  much  that  ain't  so." 

Conversation  with  the  untrained  man 
under  thirty-five  is  equally  impossible,  be- 
cause he  never  converses ;  he  only  talks. 
And  your  chief  accomplishment  of  being  a 
good  listener  is  entirely  thrown  away  on 
him,  because  a  mere  talker  never  cares 
whether  you  listen  or  not  as  long  as  you 
do  not  interrupt  him.  He  only  wants  the 
floor  and  the  sound  of  his  own  voice.  It 
is  the  trained  man  over  thirty-five  who  can 
converse  and  who  wishes  you  to  respond. 

The  untrained  man  desires  to  be  amused. 


8  THE    UNTRAINED    MAN 

The  trained  man  wishes  to  amuse.  A  man 
under  thirty-five  is  in  this  world  to  be  made 
happy.  The  man  over  thirty -five  tries  to 
make  you  happy. 

There  is  no  use  of  uttering  a  protest. 
You  simply  must  wait,  and  let  life  take  it 
out  of  him.  The  man  under  thirty-five  is 
being  trained  in  a  thousand  ways  every 
day  that  he  lives.  Some  learn  more  quick- 
ly than  others.  It  depends  on  the  type  of 
man  and  on  the  length  of  time  he  is  will- 
ing to  remain  in  the  raw. 

You  can  do  little  to  help  him,  if  you  are 
the  first  girl  to  take  a  hand  at  him.  You 
can  but  prepare  him  to  be  a  little  more 
amenable  to  the  next  girl.  His  mind  is  not 
on  you.  It  is  centred  on  himself.  You 
are  only  an  entity  to  him,  not  an  individual. 
He  cares  nothing  for  your  likes  and  dis- 
likes, your  cares  or  hopes  or  fears.  He  only 
wishes  you  to  be  pretty  and  well  dressed. 
Have  a  mind  if  you  will.  He  will  not  know 
it.  Have  a  heart  and  a  soul.  They  do  not 
concern  him,  because  he  cannot  see  them. 
He  likes  to  have  you  tailor-made.  You  are 
a  Girl  to  him.  That's  all. 


UNDER   THIRTY-FIVE  9 

The  eyes  of  the  untrained  man  under 
thirty-five  are  never  taken  off  himself.  They 
are  always  turned  in.  He  is  studying  him- 
self first  and  foremost,  and  the  world  at 
large  is  interesting  to  him  only  inasmuch 
as  it  bears  relation  to  himself  as  the  pivotal 
point.  He  fully  indorses  Pope's  line,  "The 
proper  study  of  mankind  is  man,"  and  he 
is  that  man.  Join  in  his  pursuit  if  you 
will ;  show  the  wildest  enthusiasm  in  his 
golf  record  or  how  many  lumps  of  sugar  he 
takes  in  his  coffee,  and  he  will  evince  nei- 
ther surprise  nor  gratitude  for  your  in- 
terest. You  are  only  showing  your  good 
taste. 

Try  to  talk  to  the  untrained  man  under 
thirty-five  upon  any  subject  except  himself. 
Bait  him  with  different  topics  of  universal 
interest,  and  try  to  persuade  him  to  leave 
his  own  point  of  view  long  enough  to  look 
through  the  eyes  of  the  world.  And  then 
notice  the  hopeless  persistence  with  which 
he  avoids  your  dexterous  efforts  and  men- 
tally lies  down  to  worry  his  Ego  again,  like 
a  dog  with  a  bone. 

The  conceit  of  one  of  these  men  is  the 


10  THE    UNTRAINED   MAN 

most  colossal  specimen  of  psychological 
architecture  in  existence.  As  a  social  study, 
when  I  have  him  under  the  microscope,  I 
can  enjoy  this.  I  revel  in  it,  just  as  I  do 
in  a  view  of  the  ocean  or  the  heavens  at 
night — anything  so  vast  that  I  cannot  see 
to  the  end  of  it.  It  suggests  eternity  or 
space.  But  oh !  what  I  have  suffered  from 
a  mental  contact  with  this  phase  of  him  in 
society !  Sometimes  he  really  is  ignorant — 
has  no  brains  at  all — and  then  my  suffering 
is  lingering.  Sometimes  he  really  knows  a 
great  deal — has  the  making  of  a  man  in 
him,  only  it  lies  fallow  for  want  of  training 
— and  then  my  suffering  is  acute.  When 
success  —  business  or  social  or  athletic  or 
literary  or  artistic — comes  to  the  untrained 
man  under  thirty -five,  it  comes  pitifully 
near  being  his  ruin.  The  adulation  of  the 
world  is  more  intoxicating  and  more  deadly 
than  to  drink  absinthe  out  of  a  stein  ;  more 
insidious  than  opium  ;  more  fatal  than 
death.  It  unsettles  the  steadiest  brain 
and  feeds  the  too-ravenous  Ego  with  a  food 
which  at  first  he  deemed  nectar  and  am- 
brosia, but  which  he  soon  comes  to  feel  is 


UNDER    THIRTY-FIVE  n 

the  staff  of  life,  and  no  more  than  he  de- 
serves. With  success  should  come  the  de- 
termination, be  you  man  or  woman,  to  fall 
upon  your  knees  every  day  and  pray  Heaven 
for  strength  to  keep  from  believing  what 
people  tell  you,  so  that  you  still  may  be 
bearable  to  your  friends  and  livable  to  your 
family. 

I  know  that  all  this  will  fall  unkindly 
upon  the  ears  of  many  a  worthy  man  under 
thirty-five  whose  charm  is  still  in  embryo, 
and  that,  unless  he  is  very  clever,  he  will 
be  mortally  offended,  and  never  believe  my 
solemn  assertion  that  I  am  the  stanchest 
friend  the  man  of  possibilities  has.  Let  him 
take  care  how  he  resents  my  amiable  brutal- 
ity, or  how  he  denounces  me  as  his  enemy, 
for  if  I  were  not  interested  in  the  untrained 
man  under  thirty-five  I  wouldn't  bother  with 
him,  would  I  ? 

I  know,  too,  that  a  diplomatic  feminine 
contingency  will  raise  a  howl  of  protest,  and 
will  read  this  aloud  to  men  under  thirty-five 
for  the  express  purpose  of  disclaiming  all 
complicity  with  such  heterodox  views,  and 
doubtless  will  be  able  to  make  the  men 


12  THE    UNTRAINED    MAN 

believe  them.  Tactful  girls  are  a  neces- 
sity, and  I  approve  of  them.  I  do  not  in 
the  least  mind  their  disclaiming  my  views 
to  specific  men,  especially  if  I  can  catch 
their  eye  for  one  subtle  moment  when  the 
men  are  not  looking.  On  this  subject  there 
is  a  certain  delicately  veiled,  comprehend- 
ing, soul-satisfying,  mental  wink  going  the 
rounds  of  the  girls,  indicating  our  comrade- 
ship and  unanimity  of  thought  quite  as  un- 
derstandingly  as  the  fraternal  grip  stands 
for  fellowship  among  masons.  We  girls 
have  been  thinking  these  things  for  a  long 
time,  and,  with  this  declaration  of  indepen- 
dence, the  shackles  will  fall  from  many  a 
girl's  soul,  because  another  girl  has  dared  to 
speak  out  in  meeting. 

Of  course,  I  know,  too,  that  girls  with  nice 
brothers  and  cousins  and  husbands  under 
thirty-five  will  also  offer  violent  protest.  I 
am  perfectly  willing.  Doubtless  their  fem- 
inine influence  has  circumvented  nature  to 
such  an  extent  that  no  one  would  suspect 
that  their  men  were  under  thirty-five.  I  only 
beg  of  them  to  remember  that  I  am  not 
discussing  girl  -  trained  men  or  widowers. 


UNDER   THIRTY-FIVE  13 

TJoth  of  these  types  are  as  near  perfection 
as  a  man  can  become. 

A  man  whom  girls  have  trained  is  really 
modest.  Even  at  twenty  he  does  not  think 
that  he  knows  it  all.  He  is  willing  to  admit 
that  his  father  and  mother  have  brains,  and 
that  thirty  years' experience  entitles  them  to 
a  hearing.  He  also  is  willing  to  give  the 
girls  a  show,  to  humor  them,  to  find  them 
interesting  as  studies,  but  never  to  claim  to 
understand  them.  In  short,  he  has  many 
of  the  charming  qualities  of  the  man  over 
thirty-five  and  the  widower.  That  is  the 
man  who  is  girl-trained.  But  Heaven  help 
the  man  who  is  girl  spoiled. 

Far  be  it  from  me  to  say  that  the  un- 
trained man  under  thirty-five,  at  his  worst, 
is  of  no  use  in  this  world.  He  is  excellent 
for  a  two-step.  I  have  used  a  number  of 
them  very  successfully  in  this  way.  But  I 
know  the  awful  thought  has  already  pierced 
some  people's  brains — what  if  the  man  un- 
der thirty-five  does  not  dance  ? 

Sometimes  an  untrained  man  under  thir- 
ty-five will  actually  have  the  audacity  to  say 
to  me  that  he  takes  small  pleasure  in  society 


14  THE    UNTRAINED   MAN 

because  the  girls  he  meets  are  so  silly,  and 
he  must  use  small -talk  in  order  to  meet 
them  on  their  own  ground.  I  am  aghast  at 
his  temerity,  as  he,  too,  will  be  when  he 
has  heard  our  side  of  the  subject.  We  girls 
never  have  allowed  ourselves  the  luxury 
of  vindicating  ourselves,  or  refuting  this 
charge.  It  is  the  clever  girl  who  suffers 
most  of  all — not  the  brilliant,  meteoric  girl 
— but  just  the  ordinarily  clever  girl,  as  other 
girls  know  her.  It  is  this  sort  of  a  girl  who 
drags  upon  my  sympathies,  because  she  oc- 
cupies an  anomalous  position. 

Being  a  real  woman,  she  likes  to  be 
liked.  She  wishes  to  please  men.  We  all 
do.  But  what  kind  of  men  are  we  to 
please?  Untrained  men  under  thirty-five? 
Owing  to  the  horrible  prevalence  of  these 
men,  some  girls  become  neither  fish,  flesh, 
nor  fowl,  nor  good  red  herring.  They  see 
their  silly,  pink-cheeked  sisters  followed  and 
admired.  They  know  either  how  shallow 
these  girls  are  or  how  cleverly  hypocritical. 
Clever  girls  are  also  human.  They  love  to 
go  about  and  wear  pretty  clothes,  and  dance, 
and  be  admired  quite  as  much  as  anybody. 


UNDER    THIRTY-FIVE  15 

The  result  is  that  they  adopt  the  only  course 
left  to  them,  and,  bringing  themselves  down 
to  the  level  of  the  men,  feign  a  frivolity 
and  a  levity  which  occasionally  call  forth 
from  a  thinking  man  a  criticism  which  is,  in 
a  sense,  totally  undeserved.  What  will  not 
the  untrained  man  under  thirty-five  have  to 
answer  for  on  the  Day  of  Judgment! 

It  is  of  no  use  to  argue  about  this  state 
of  things.  Facts  are  facts.  Men  make  no 
secret  of  the  kind  of  women  they  want  us  to 
be.  We  get  preached  at  from  pulpits  and 
lectured  at  from  platforms  and  written  about 
by  "The  Saunterer  "  and  "  The  Man  About 
Town  "  and  "  The  One  Who  Knows  It  All," 
telling  us  how  to  be  womanly,  how  to  look 
to  please  men,  how  to  behave  to  please 
men,  and  how  to  save  our  souls  to  please 
men,  until,  if  we  were  not  a  sweet,  amiable 
set,  we  would  rebel  as  a  sex  and  declare 
that  we  thought  we  were  lovely  just  the  way 
we  were,  and  that  we  were  not  going  to 
change  for  anybody. 

You  lords  of  creation  ought  to  be  very 
complaisant,  or  else  very  much  ashamed  of 
yourselves.  You  send  in  an  order  :  "  The 


16  THE    UNTRAINED    MAN 

kind  of  girl  that  I  like  is  a  Methodist  with- 
out bangs."  And  some  nice  girl  begins  to 
look  up  Methodist  tenets  and  buys  invisi- 
ble hairpins  and  side  combs.  Or  you  say, 
"  Give  me  an  athletic  girl."  And,  presto  ! 
some  girl  who  would  much  rather  read  buys 
a  wheel,  and  learns  golf,  and  lets  out  the 
waists  to  her  gowns,  and  revels  in  tan  and 
freckles.  We  do  what  you  men  want  us 
to.  And,  then,  when  you  complain  about 
our  lack  of  brains,  that  we  cannot  discuss 
current  events,  and  that  you  have  to  give 
us  society  small-talk,  I  feel  like  saying: 
"Well,  whose  fault  is  it?  If  you  demand 
brains,  we  will  cultivate  them.  If  you  want 
good  looks,  we  will  try  to  scare  up  some. 
If  you  want  nobility,  we  will  let  you  know 
how  much  we  have  concealed  about  us." 

Often  it  is  not  that  we  are  not  secretly 
much  more  of  women,  and  better  and  clev- 
erer women,  than  you  think  us.  But  there 
is  no  call  for  such  wares,  so  we  lay  charac- 
ter and  brain  on  the  shelves  to  mildew,  and 
fill  the  show  -  windows  with  confectionery 
and  illusion.  We  supply  the  demand.  We 
always  have  supplied  it,  and  we  always  will. 


UNDER   THIRTY-FIVE  17 

Of  course,  some  of  us  get  very  much  dis- 
gusted with  the  debutantes.  But,  aside  from 
the  great  superiority  they  have  over  girls 
with  thinking  powers  (in  regard  to  the  num- 
ber of  men  who  admire  them,  for  all  men 
admire  cooing  girls  with  dimples)  —  aside 
from  this,  I  say,  there  is  something  to  be 
said  on  their  behalf.  Don't  you  believe, 
you  dear,  unsuspicious  men,  who  dote  upon 
their  pliability  and  the  trustfulness  of  their 
innocent,  limpid  blue  or  brown-eyed  gaze, 
which  meets  your  own  with  such  implied 
flattery  to  your  superior  strength  and  intel- 
ligence— don't  you  believe  for  one  moment 
that  the  simple  little  dears  do  not  know  ex- 
actly the  part  they  are  playing.  They  are 
twice  as  clever  as  the  cleverest  of  you.  They 
feel  that  they  are  needed  just  as  they  are. 
The  fashionable  schools  are  turning  them 
out  every  year  exactly  as  the  untrained  men 
under  thirty-five  would  wish  them  to  be. 
They  know  this.  Therefore  they  remain  as 
Art  has  made  them.  Feeling  themselves 
admired  by  the  class  of  men  they  most  wish 
to  attract,  they  have  no  incentive  to  im- 
prove. 


1 8  THE   UNTRAINED   MAN 

And  yet,  I  suppose,  untrained  men  under 
thirty-five  have  their  use  in  the  world,  aside 
from  the  part  they  play  in  the  discipline  of 
discriminating  young  women.  Girls  even 
marry  these  men.  Lovely  girls,  too.  Clever 
girls — girls  who  know  a  hundred  times  more 
than  their  husbands,  and  are  ten  times  finer 
grained.  I  wonder  if  they  love  them,  if 
they  are  satisfied  with  them,  if  ennui  of  the 
soul  is  not  a  bitter  thing  to  bear? 

I  am  always  wondering  why  girls  marry 
them.  Every  week  brings  me  knowledge 
that  some  lovely  girl  I  know  has  found  an- 
other man  under  thirty-five,  or  that  some  of 
my  men  friends  of  that  persuasion  have  mar- 
ried out-of-town  girls.  It  does  not  surprise 
me  so  much  when  girls  from  another  city 
marry  them.  Most  men  do  not  like  to  write 
letters,  and  visits  are  only  for  over  Sunday. 

Men  are  always  saying,  "  Well,  why  don't 
you  tell  us  the  kind  of  men  you  would  like 
us  to  be  ?"  And  their  attitude  when  they 
say  it  is  with  their  thumbs  in  the  arm-holes 
of  their  waistcoats.  When  a  man  is  thor- 
oughly satisfied  with  himself  he  always  ex- 
pands his  chest. 


UNDER   THIRTY-FIVE  19 

There  is  something  very  funny  to  me  in 
that  question,  because  I  suppose  they  really 
think  they  would  change  to  please  us.  I  do 
not  mind  talking  about  it,  because  I  am  so- 
ciable, and  I  like  conversation ;  but  I  never 
for  a  moment  dream  that  they  will  do  it. 
They  intend  to,  and  their  inclination  is  al- 
ways to  please  us,  even  to  spoil  us ;  but  they 
either  cannot  or  will  not  change ;  and  they 
think  if  they  can  refuse  pleasantly,  and  men- 
tally chuck  us  under  the  chin  and  make  us 
smile,  that  they  have  succeeded  in  getting 
our  minds  off  a  troublesome  subject. 

Of  course,  it  is  partly  our  fault  that  we  do 
not  insist,  but  no  one  wants  to  be  disagree- 
able. Therefore  we  choose  personal  dis- 
comfort for  ourselves  rather  than  to  demand 
radical  changes  in  the  men,  which  might 
bring  on  contention. 

But  women  wish  to  please  men,  aside  from 
their  power  of  winning  them.  Whereas  if 
men  can  get  the  girls  without  any  change 
on  their  part,  they  consider  themselves  a 
howling  success.  But  they  might  be  a  little 
bit  surprised  if  they  could  read  the  minds 
of  these  very  wives  whom  they  have  won, 


20  THE  UNTRAINED  MAN  UNDER  THIRTY-FIVE 

whose  life-work  often  may  be  only  to  im- 
prove them  so  that  they  will  make  some 
other  woman  the  kind  of  a  husband  they 
should  have  made  at  first,  and  then  to  lie 
down  and  die. 

So  let  men  beware  how  they  criticise  us 
unfavorably,  no  matter  what  their  ages,  for 
the  truth  of  the  matter  is  that,  be  we  frivo- 
lous or  serious,  vain  or  sensible,  clever  or 
stupid,  rich  or  poor,  we  are  what  the  Ameri- 
can man  has  made  us.  We  are  supremely 
grateful  to  him  for  the  most  part,  for  he  has 
literally  made  us  what  we  are  by  the  sweat 
of  his  brow.  But  let  him  beware  how  he 
cavils  at  his  own  handiwork.  'Tis  not 
for  the  untrained  man  under  thirty-five  to 
complain  of  us,  when  now  he  knows  why 
we  are  so. 

"  I'm  not  denyin'  that  women  are  foolish," 
says  George  Eliot.  "  God  Almighty  made 
'em  to  match  the  men." 


THE    PHILOSOPHY   OF    CLOTHES 

'  Last  night  in  blue  my  little  love  was  dressed; 
And  as  she  walked  the  room  in  maiden 

grace, 

I  looked  into  her  fair  and  smiling  face, 
And  said  that  blue  became  my  darling  best. 
But  when,  this  morn,  a  spotless  virgin  -vest 
And  robe  of  white  did  the  blue  one  dis- 
place, 
She  seemed  a  pearl -tinged  cloud,  and  I 

was — space  ! 

She  filled  my  soul  as  cloud -shapes  fill  the 
West. 

'  And  so  it  is  thai,  changing  day  by  day — 

Changing  her  robe,  but  not  her  loveliness — 
Whether  the  gown  be  blue  or  white  or  gray, 
I  deem  that  one  her  most  becoming  dress. 
The  truth  is  this :   In  any  robe  or  way, 
I  love  her  just  the  same,  and  cannot  love 
her  less!" 


THE    PHILOSOPHY   OF    CLOTHES 


IF  you  are  interested  in  the  spectacle  of 
letting  people  paint  their  own  portraits,  at 
the  same  time  entirely  unconscious  that  they 
are  doing  so,  ask  a  number  of  women  and 
girls  whether  they  dress  to  please  men  or 
other  women,  and  then  listen  carefully  to 
what  they  say  and  watch  their  faces  well 
while  they  are  saying  it.  Most  of  the  girls 
will  say  they  dress  to  please  women  ;  and 
the  reason  I  ask  you  to  watch  their  faces 
is  that  you  may  see  the  subtle  changes  go- 
ing on  by  which  they  persuade  themselves 
that  they  are  telling  the  truth.  Women 
— nice,  sweet  women,  the  kind  we  know — 
seldom  tell  a  real  untruth.  But  they  have 
a  way  of  persuading  themselves  that  what 
they  are  about  to  say  is  the  truth.  Wom- 
en must  believe  in  themselves  before  they 


24  THE   PHILOSOPHY   OF   CLOTHES 

can  hope  to  make  other  people  believe  in 
them ;  therefore  they  have  themselves  to 
persuade  first  of  all.  Now,  when  men  are 
going  to  utter  an  untruth  they  never  care 
whether  they  believe  it  or  not,  as  long  as 
they  can  make  other  people  believe  it.  And 
the  so-called  brutal  honesty  of  man  is  only 
brutal  want  of  tact.  That  poor,  patient,  mis- 
used word,  "  honesty  "  !  How  sick  it  must 
get  of  its  abuse  ! 

Yes,  girls  really  believe,  I  suppose,  that 
they  dress  for  other  girls.  But  they  do  not. 
They  dress  for  men.  And  only  experience 
will  teach  them  the  highest  wisdom  in  the 
matter.  But  that  they  cannot  acquire  un- 
til they  believe  that  only  another  woman 
will  know  just  how  well  they  are  dressed, 
and,  above  all,  whether  Doucet  turned  them 
out,  or  a  dress-maker  in  the  house  at  two 
dollars  a  day. 

Men  only  take  in  the  effect.  Women  know 
how  the  effect  is  produced.  Of  course,  now 
I  am  speaking  of  the  general  run  of  men 
and  women  :  neither  the  man  who  clerked 
at  Cash  &  Silk's  nor  the  one  who  pays  his 
wife's  bills  in  Paris,  but  the  man  in  his 


THE    PHILOSOPHY   OF   CLOTHES  25 

native  state  of  charming  ignorance  of  mate- 
rials ;  the  man  who  always  suggests  a  "gus- 
set" as  a  remedy  for  too  scant  a  gown, 
who  calls  insertion  "tatting,"  and  who,  in 
setting  out  for  the  opera,  will  tell  his  wife 
to  put  on  her  "bonnet  and  shawl,"  although 
she  may  have  on  point-lace  and  diamonds. 
In  his  more  modern  aspect  he  tells  you 
that  a  girl  at  the  Junior  Promenade  had  on 
a  blue  dress  with  feathers  around  her  neck 
— which  you  must  translate  into  meaning 
anything  from  blue  satin  to  organdie,  and 
that  between  dances  she  wore  a  feather 
boa. 

It  is  the  effect  only  that  men  take  in ; 
and  when  a  man  goes  into  ecstasies  over  a 
gown  of  pale  green  on  a  hot  day  just  be- 
cause you  look  so  cool  and  fresh  in  it,  when 
you  know  that  you  paid  but  forty  cents  a 
yard  for  it,  and  only  nods  when  you  show 
him  your  velvet  and  ermine  wrap,  which 
cost  you  two  hundred  dollars,  I  would  just 
like  to  ask  you  if  it  pays  to  dress  for  him. 
Women  know  this  from  a  sorrowful  ex- 
perience* Girls  have  to  learn  it  for  them- 
selves. A  ball  -  dress  of  white  tarlatan, 


26  THE    PHILOSOPHY   OF   CLOTHES 

made  up  over  white  paper  cambric,  with  a 
white  sash,  will  satisfy  a  man  quite  as  well 
as  a  Paris  muslin  trimmed  with  a  hundred 
dollars'  worth  of  Valenciennes  lace  and  made 
up  over  silk.  Most  of  them  would  never 
know  the  difference. 

I  do  not  know  whether  to  be  sorry  for 
these  men  or  not.  It  must  be  lovely  not  to 
agonize  and  plan  and  worry  to  have  every- 
thing the  best  of  its  kind.  I  would  like  to 
take  in  only  the  effect,  and  never  know  why 
I  was  pleased.  Too  much  analysis  is  death 
to  unmitigated  rapture.  You  always  are 
haunted  by  knowing  exactly  what  is  lack- 
ing, and  just  how  it  could  be  remedied.  But 
these  dear  men  are  singularly  deluded  in 
many  ways,  and  upon  these  delusions  clever 
women  play,  as  a  master  plays  upon  an  or- 
gan. And  young  girls,  who  have  not  had 
time  to.  study  into  the  philosophy  of  it— how 
should  the  poor  things  know  that  clothes 
have  any  philosophy  ?  —  as  usual,  have  to 
suffer  for  it. 

One  of  these  delusions  is  the  "  simple 
white  muslin "  delusion.  When  a  man 
speaks  of  a  "  simple  white  muslin  "  in  the 


THE   PHILOSOPHY   OF   CLOTHES  27 

softly  admiring  tone  which  he  generally 
adopts  to  go  with  it,  he  means  anything  on 
earth  in  the  line  of  a  thin,  light  stuff  which 
produces  in  his  mind  the  effect  of  youth 
and  innocence.  A  ball -dress  or  a  cotton 
morning-gown  is  to  him  a  "simple  white 
muslin." 

Now  a  word  with  you,  you  dear,  unso- 
phisticated man.  I  have  heard  you,  with 
the  sound  of  your  hundred-and-fifty-dollar- 
a-month  salary  ringing  in  your  ears,  gurgle 
and  splash  about  a  girl  who  wears  "  simple 
white  muslins  "  to  balls ;  and  I  have  heard 
you  set  down,  as  extravagant,  and  too  rich 
for  your  purse,  the  girl  who  wears  silk. 
There  is  no  more  extravagant  or  trouble- 
some gown  in  the  world  than  what  you  call 
a  "simple  white  muslin."  In  the  first  pi  ace, 
it  never  is  muslin,  unless  it  is  Paris  mus- 
lin, which  is  no  joke,  if  you  are  thinking  of 
paying  for  it  yourself,  as  it  necessitates  a 
silk  lining,  which  costs  more  than  the  out- 
side. If  it  is  trimmed  with  lace,  that  would 
take  as  much  of  your  salary  as  the  coal  for 
all  winter  would  come  to.  If  trimmed  with 
ribbons,  they  must  be  changed  ofte.n  to 


28  THE   PHILOSOPHY   OF   CLOTHES 

freshen  the  gown,  whose  only  beauty  is  its 
freshness.  Deliver  me  from  a  soiled  or 
stringy  white  party -dress!  If  it  can  be 
worn  five  times  during  the  winter,  the  girl 
is  either  a  careful  dancer  or  else  a  wall- 
flower. In  either  case,  after  every  wearing 
she  must  have  it  pressed  out  and  put  away 
as  daintily  as  if  it  were  egg-shells,  all  of 
which  is  the  greatest  nuisance  on  earth. 
Often  such  a  gown  is  torn  all  to  pieces  the 
first  time  it  is  worn.  Scores  of  "  simple 
white  muslin"  ball-gowns  at  a  hundred  dol- 
lars apiece  are  only  worn  once  or  twice. 

Now  take  the  "  extravagant "  girl  with  her 
flowered  taffeta  silk,  or  plain  satin,  or  bro- 
cade dress.  There  is  at  once  the  effect  of 
richness  and  elegance.  No  matter  how 
sweet  and  pretty  she  is,  you  at  once  decide 
that  you  never  could  afford  to  dress  her. 
But  that  taffeta  cost,  perhaps,  only  a  dollar 
a  yard.  The  satin,  possibly  a  dollar  and  a 
half.  They  require  almost  no  trimming,  be- 
cause the  material  is  so  handsome  and  the 
effect  must  be  as  simple  as  possible.  Such 
a  gown  never  need  be  lined  with  silk  unless 
you  wish  to  do  it.  Many  a  girl  gets  up 


THE    PHILOSOPHY   OF   CLOTHES  29 

such  a  gown  for  fifty  or  sixty  dollars.  And 
then  think  of  the  service  that  there  is  in  it. 
It  does  not  tear,  it  does  not  crush.  When 
she  comes  home  she  looks  as  fresh  as  when 
she  started.  When  it  soils  at  the  edge  of 
the  skirt,  she  has  it  cleaned,  and  there  she  is 
with  a  new  dress  again.  Do  you  call  that 
extravagant  ?  Why,  my  dear  sirs,  it  is  only 
the  very  rich  who  can  afford  to  wear  "  sim- 
ple white  muslins !" 

There  is  a  hollowness  about  having  a 
man  praise  your  gowns  when  you  know  he 
doesn't  know  what  he  is  talking  about. 
When  a  man  praises  your  clothes  he  al- 
ways is  praising  you  in  them.  You  never 
will  hear  a  man  praise  even  the  good  dress- 
ing of  a  woman  he  dislikes;  while  girls  who 
positively  hate  another  girl  often  will  add, 
"But  she  certainly  does  know  how  to 
dress." 

And  so  the  experienced  woman  wears  her 
expensive  clothes  for  other  women,  and  pro- 
duces her  "  effects  "  for  men.  She  wears  scar- 
let on  a  cold  or  raw  day,  and  the  eyes  of  the 
men  light  up  when  they  see  her.  It  makes 
her  look  cheerful  and  bright  and  warm.  She 


30  THE    PHILOSOPHY   OF   CLOTHES 

wears  gray  when  she  wants  to  look  demure. 
Let  a  man  beware  of  a  woman  in  silvery 
gray.  She  looks  so  quiet  and  dove-like  and 
gentle  that  she  has  disarmed  him  before 
she  has  spoken  one  word,  and  he  will  snug- 
gle down  beside  her  and  let  her  turn  his 
mind  and  his  pocket-book  wrong  side  out. 
A  woman  could  not  look  designing  in  light 
gray  if  she  tried.  He  dotes  upon  the  girl 
in  pale  blue.  Pale  blue  naturally  suggests 
to  his  mind  the  sort  of  girl  who  can  wear  it, 
which  is  generally  a  blonde  with  soft,  fluffy 
hair,  fair  skin,  and  blue  eyes — appealing, 
trustful,  baby-blue  eyes.  Did  you  ever  no- 
tice that  men  always  instinctively  put  con- 
fidence in  a  girl  with  blue  eyes,  and  have 
their  suspicions  of  a  girl  with  brilliant  black 
ones,  and  will  you  kindly  tell  me  why?  Is 
it  that  the  limpid  blue  eye,  transparent  and 
gentle,  suggests  all  the  soft,  womanly  virtues, 
and  because  he  thinks  he  can  see  through 
it,  clear  down  into  that  blue-eyed  girl's  soul, 
that  she  is  the  kind  of  girl  he  fancies  she 
is  ?  I  think  it  is  ;  but  some  of  the  greatest 
little  frauds  I  know  are  the  purry,  kitteny 
girls  with  big,  innocent  blue  eyes. 


THE    PHILOSOPHY   OF   CLOTHES  31 

Blazing  black  eyes,  and  the  rich,  warm 
colors  which  dark-skinned  women  have  to 
wear,  suggest  energy  and  brilliance  and 
no  end  of  intellect.  Men  look  into  such 
eyes  and  seem  not  to  be  able  to  see  below 
the  surface.  They  have  not  the  pleasure 
of  a  long,  deep  gaze  into  immeasurable 
depths.  And  so  they  think  her  designing 
and  clever,  and  (God  save  the  mark !)  even 
intellectual,  when  perhaps  she  has  a  wealth 
of  love  and  devotion  and  heroism  stored 
up  behind  that  impulsive  disposition  and 
those  dazzling  black  eyes  which  would  do 
and  dare  more  in  a  minute  for  some  man 
she  had  set  that  great  heart  of  hers  upon 
than  your  cool  -  blooded,  tranquil  blonde 
would  do  in  forty  years.  A  mere  question 
of  pigment  in  the  eye  has  settled  many  a 
man's  fate  in  life,  and  established  him  with 
a  wife  who  turned  out  to  be  very  different 
from  the  girl  he  fondly  thought  he  was  get- 
ting. 

Yet  whenever  I  complain  to  experienced 
married  women  of  how  discouraging  it  is  to 
wear  your  good  clothes  for  unappreciative 
men,  they  beg  me  not  to  be  guilty  of  the 


32  THE    PHILOSOPHY    OF    CLOTHES 

heresy  of  wishing  things  different.  If  they 
have  married  one  of  the  noticing  kind,  they 
tell  me  harrowing  tales  of  gorgeous  cos- 
tumes having  been  cast  aside  because  these 
critical  men  made  fun  of,  or  were  prejudiced 
against  them,  and  "  made  remarks."  And 
they  point  with  envy  to  Mrs.  So-and-So, 
whose  husband  never  knows  what  she  has 
on,  but  who  thinks  she  looks  lovely  in  ev- 
erything, so  that  she  is  at  liberty  to  dress 
as  she  pleases.  When  a  woman  defers  to 
her  husband's  taste,  she  sometimes  is  the 
best -dressed  woman  in  the  room.  And 
sometimes  another  woman,  dressing  ac- 
cording to  another  man's  taste,  is  the 
worst-dressed.  So  you  see  you  never  can 
tell.  "De  mule  don't  kick  'cordin'  to  no 
rule." 

There  is  something  rather  pathetic  to  me 
about  a  man  being  so  ignorant  of  why  a 
woman's  dress  is  beautiful,  but  only  the 
effect  remaining  in  his  memory.  He  re- 
members how  she  looked  on  a  certain  day 
in  a  certain  gown.  He  thinks  he  remem- 
bers her  dress.  He  thinks  he  would  know 
it  again  if  he  saw  it.  But  the  truth  is  that 


THE   PHILOSOPHY   OF   CLOTHES  33 

he  is  remembering  the  woman  herself,  her 
face,  her  voice,  her  eyes — above  all,  what 
she  said,  and  how  she  said  it.  If  she  wore 
a  scarlet  ribbon  in  her  dark  hair,  a  red  rose 
in  another  woman's  hair  will  most  unac- 
countably bring  it  all  back  to  him,  and  he 
will  not  know  why  he  suddenly  sees  the 
whole  picture  rise  out  of  the  past  before 
his  eyes,  nor  why  his  throat  aches  with  the 
memory  of  it. 

I  know  one  of  these  men,  whose  descrip- 
tions of  a  woman's  dress  are  one  of  the 
experiences  of  a  lifetime.  He  loves  the 
word  bombazine.  His  mother  must  have 
worn  a  gown  of  black  bombazine  during 
his  impressionable  age.  And  he  never  will 
be  successful  in  describing  a  modern  gown 
until  bombazines  again  become  the  rage. 
This  same  dear  man  brought  back  to  his 
invalid  wife  a  description  of  a  fashionable 
noon  wedding,  which  consisted  of  the  single 
item  that  the  bride  wore  a  blue  alpaca  bon- 
net. It  really  would  be  of  interest  from  a 
scientific  point  of  view  to  know  what  sug- 
gested that  combination  to  any  intelligence, 
even  if  it  were  masculine. 

3 


34  THE    PHILOSOPHY   OF   CLOTHES 

I  have  more  evidence  to  go  on,  how- 
ever, when  I  wonder  why  the  idea  of  the 
cost  penetrates  this  same  man's  brain  when 
shown  a  new  gown  by  any  member  of  his 
family,  all  of  whom  he  is  weak  enough  to 
adore.  His  daughter  will  say,  "  Papa,  do 
look  here  just  one  minute!  How  do  you 
like  my  new  gown  ?"  And  the  answer  never 
varies  :  "  Very  pretty,  indeed.  I  hope  it's 
paid  for."  He  will  say  that  of  a  cotton 
frock  made  two  years  ago — he  never  knows 
— of  a  silk  neglige,  or  of  a  ball-gown  of  the 
newest  make.  The  fashion  produces  no 
impression  upon  him,  nor  the  material,  nor 
the  cut.  But  let  his  daughter  put  on  any 
kind  of  a  pale  green  dress,  and  stand  before 
him  with  the  question,  "  Papa,  how  do  you 
like  my  new  gown  ?"  While  he  is  raising  his 
head  from  his  book  he  begins  the  old  for- 
mula, "Very  pretty.  I  hope —  Then  he 
stops  and  says,  "  I  have  seen  that  dress  be- 
fore. Child,  you  grow  to  look  more  like 
your  mother  every  day  of  your  life."  And 
there  is  a  little  break  in  his  voice,  and  be- 
fore he  goes  on  reading  he  takes  off  his 
glasses  and  wipes  them,  and  looks  out  of 


THE    PHILOSOPHY   OF    CLOTHES  35 

the  window  without  seeing  anything,  and 
sits  very  still  for  a  moment.  It  was  the 
sight  of  the  pale  green  dress.  When  he 
came  home  from  the  war  his  lovely  young 
wife,  whom  he  lost  when  she  was  still  young 
and  beautiful,  came  to  meet  him,  holding 
her  baby  son  in  her  arms  for  his  father 
to  see,  and  she  had  worn  a  pale  green 
gown. 

Why  certain  kinds  of  clothes  are  associ- 
ated in  the  public  mind  with  certain  kinds 
of  women  is  to  me  an  amusing  mystery. 
Why  are  old  maids  always  supposed  to  wear 
black  silks  ?  And  why  are  they  always  sup- 
posed to  be  thin  ? — the  old  maids,  I  mean, 
not  the  silks.  Why  are  literary  women  al- 
ways supposed  to  be  frayed  at  the  edges  ? 
And  why,  if  they  keep  up  with  the  fashions 
and  wear  patent-leathers,  do  people  say,  in 
an  exasperatingly  astonished  tone,  "  Can 
that  woman  write  books  f"  Why  not,  pray? 
Does  a  fragment  of  genius  corrupt  the  aes- 
thetic sense?  Is  writing  a  hardening  proc- 
ess ?  Must  you  wear  shabby  boots  and 
carry  a  baggy  umbrella  just  because  you  can 
write  ?  Not  a  bit  of  it.  Little  as  some  of 


36  THE   PHILOSOPHY   OF    CLOTHES 

you  men  may  think  it,  literary  women  have 
souls,  and  a  woman  with  a  soul  must,  of 
necessity,  love  laces  and  ruffled  petticoats, 
and  high  heels,  and  rosettes.  Otherwise  I 
question  her  possession  of  a  soul. 


WOMAN'S  RIGHTS  IN  LOVE 

'  She  has  laughed  as  softly  as  if  she  sighed ! 

She  has  counted  six  and  over, 
Of  a  purse  well  filled  and  a  heart  well  tried — 

Oh,  each  a  worthy  lover ! 
They  'give  her  time,'  for  her  soul  must  slip 

When  the  world  has  set  the  grooving  ; 
She  will  lie  to  none  with  her  fair  red  lip — 

But  love  seeks  truer  loving. 

***** 
1  Unless  you  can  mu$e  in  a  crowd  all  day 

On  the  absent  face  that  fixed  you  ; 
Unless  you  can  love  as  the  angels  may, 

With  the  breadth  of  heaven  betwixt  you  ; 
Unless  you  can  dream  that  his  faith  is  fast. 

Through  behooving  and  imbchooving  ; 
Unless  you  can  DIE  when  the  dream  is  past — 

Oh,  never  call  it  loving  /" 


WOMAN'S   RIGHTS  IN  LOVE 


IN  love  a  woman's  first  right  is  to  be  pro- 
tected from  her  friends  while  she  consid- 
ers the  man  whom  she  contemplates  loving. 
The  well-meant  blundering  of  vitally  inter- 
ested friends  has  spoiled  many  a  promising 
love  affair,  which  might  have  resulted  in  a 
marriage  so  much  above  the  ordinary  that 
it  could  be  termed  satisfactory  even  by  the 
most  captious. 

At  no  time  in  a  girl's  life  has  she  a  greater 
right  to  work  out  her  own  salvation  in  fear 
and  trembling  than  during  the  period  known 
among  girls  as  "making  up  her  mind."  If 
she  is  the  right  kind  of  a  girl,  honest  and 
delicate  minded,  it  is  nerve-racking  to  be 
talked  about,  and  sacrilege  to  be  talked  to. 
Then  the  bloom  is  on  the  grape,  which  a 
rude  touch  mars  forever. 


40  WOMAN  S    RIGHTS    IN    LOVE 

Yet  these  kind  friends  never  think  of  the 
delicate,  touch-me-not  influences  at  work  in 
the  girl's  soul,  or  that  the  instinct  to  hide 
her  real  interest  in  the  man  precludes  the 
possibility  of  her  daring  to  ask  to  be  let 
alone.  So  they,  in  their  over-zeal  and  am- 
bition, either  make  the  path  of  love  so  easy 
and  inevitable  that  all  the  zest  is  taken  out 
of  it  for  both  (for  lovers  never  want  some- 
body to  go  ahead  and  baste  the  problem  for 
them  ;  they  want  to  blind-stitch  it  for  them- 
selves as  they  go  along),  or  else,  by  critical 
nagging,  and  balancing  the  eligibility  of  one 
suitor  against  another,  these  friends  so  har- 
ass and  upset  the  poor  girl  that  she  doesn't 
know  which  man  she  wants,  and  so  turns 
her  back  upon  all. 

In  point  of  fact,  when  a  .man  is  in  love, 
and  a  girl  does  not  yet  know  her  own  mind; 
when  she  is  weighing  out  their  adaptability, 
and  balancing  his  love  for  football  against 
her  passion  for  Browning;  during  the  deli- 
cate, tentative  period,  when  the  most  affec- 
tionate solicitude  from  friends  is  an  irrita- 
tion, there  ought  to  be  a  law  banishing  the 
interested  couple  to  an  island  peopled  with 


WOMAN'S  RIGHTS  IN  LOVE  41 

strangers,  who  would  not  discover  the  deli- 
cacy of  the  situation  until  it  was  too  late  to 
spoil  it. 

"Woman's  rights."  I  certainly  agree  with 
the  men  who  think  that  those  words  have 
a  masculine,  assertive,  belligerent  sound. 
"  Equal  suffrage  "  is  much  more  lady-like,  and 
we  are  by  way  of  getting  all  we  wish  of  the 
men  on  any  subject,  under  the  gentlest  title 
by  which  it  may  be  called.  Strange,  how, 
with  strong  men,  force  never  avails,  but  the 
softest  methods  are  the  surest  and  swiftest. 

However,  equal  suffrage,  wide  as  it  is,  is 
not  all  that  I  wish.  It  does  well  enough, 
but  it  does  not  cover  the  entire  ground.  I 
never  clamored  very  much  for  women  to  be 
recognized  as  the  equals  of  men,  either  in 
politics  or  in  love,  because,  if  I  had  clamored 
at  all,  I  should  have  clamored  for  infinitely 
more  than  that.  /  should  have  clamored 
for  men  to  recognize  us  as  their  superiors, 
and  not  for  equal  rights  with  themselves, 
but  for  more,  many  more  rights  than  they 
ever  dreamed  of  possessing.  'Tis  not  jus- 
tice I  crave,  but  mercy.  'Tis  not  equality, 
but  chivalry. 


42  WOMAN'S  RIGHTS  IN  LOVE 

In  the  whole  history  of  the  world,  from 
nineteenth -century  Public  Opinion  clear 
back  to  the  age  of  chivalry,  men  never 
have  been  inclined  to  deal  out  justice  to 
women.  It  is  their  watchword  with  each 
other,  but  with  women  it  always  is  either 
injustice  or  mercy.  And  in  spite  of  all 
wrongs  and  all  abuses,  I  say,  Heaven  bless 
the  men  that  this  is  so.  Human  nature 
is  more  fundamental  than  customs,  and 
what  would  become  of  women  if  we  only 
got  our  exact  deserts,  or  had  absolute 
justice  dealt  to  us,  either  by  men  or  other 
women  or  on  the  Judgment  Day  ? 

In  these  latter  days  of  this  progres- 
sive, woman's  century,  however,  the  most 
thoughtful  men  are  valiant  enough  to  re- 
adjust themselves  to  the  idea  of  woman's 
development,  and  allow  her  equality  in  pro- 
gressive thought;  at  the  same  time  main- 
taining the  old-time  chivalry  of  their  atti- 
tude towards  her.  If  she  asks  for  justice 
at  the  hands  of  these  glorious  men,  she 
will  get  it,  and  they  will  uncover  in  her 
presence  and  throw  away  their  cigars  while 
they  are  dispensing  it.  Equality  to  them 


WOMAN  S    RIGHTS    IN    LOVE  43 

does  not  mean  either  rudeness  or  insolence. 
They  are  always  gentlemen. 

It  requires  bravery  on  their  part  to  take 
this  ground,  because  the  sentiment  has  not 
as  yet  grown  popular.  But  a  New  Man  has 
been  created  by  the  development  of  the 
New  Woman,  and  he  is  the  highest  type 
we  have. 

"  Courtesy  wins  woman  as  well 
As  valor  may,  but  he  that  closes  both 
Is  perfect." 

Woman's  rights !  Why,  the  very  first 
right  we  expect  is  to  be  treated  better  than 
anybody  else  !  Better  than  men  treat  each 
other  as  a  body,  and  better  by  the  indi- 
vidual man  than  he  treats  all  other  women. 
I  abominate  the  idea  of  equality,  and  to  be 
mentally  slapped  on  the  shoulder  and  told 
I  am  "  a  good  fellow."  I  shrink  from  the 
idea  of  independence  and  cold,  proud  iso- 
lation with  my  emancipated  sister-women, 
who  struggle  into  their  own  coats  unassist- 
ed and  get  red  in  the  face  putting  on  their 
own  skates,  and  hang  on  to  a  strap  in  the 
street-car,  in  the  proud  consciousness  that 


44  WOMAN'S  RIGHTS  IN  LOVE 

they  are  independent  and  the  equal  of 
men.  I  never  worry  myself  when  a  man  is 
on  his  knees  in  front  of  me,  tying  the  rib- 
bons of  my  slipper,  as  to  whether  he  con- 
siders me  his  equal  politically  or  not.  It 
is  sufficient  satisfaction  for  me  to  see  him 
there.  If  he  hadn't  wanted  to  save  me 
the  trouble,  I  suppose  he  wouldn't  have  of- 
fered. He  may  even  think  I  am  not  strong 
enough  for  such  an  arduous  duty.  That 
would  not  hurt  my  feelings  either.  I  have 
an  idea  that  he  likes  it  better  to  think  that 
I  cannot  do  anything  troublesome  for  my- 
self than  to  believe  that  I  could  get  along 
perfectly  without  him.  In  fact — here's  her- 
esy for  you,  O  ye  emancipated ! — I  do  not  in 
the  least  mind  being  dependent  on  men — 
provided  the  men  are  nice  enough.  Let 
them  give  us  all  the  so-called  rights  they 
want  to.  I  shall  never  get  over  wanting  to 
get  behind  some  man  if  I  see  a  cow.  Let 
them  give  us  a  vote,  if  they  will.  I  shall 
want  at  least  three  men  to  go  with  me  to 
the  polls — one  to  hold  my  purse,  one  to 
hold  my  gloves,  and  the  third  to  show  me 
how  to  cast  my  vote. 


WOMAN'S    RIGHTS    IN    LOVE  45 

If  women  are  serious  in  wanting  to  vote  in 
politics,  why  do  they  not  apply  to  the  body 
politic  the  same  methods  they  use  with  the 
one  man  which  an  all-wise  Destiny  has  com- 
mitted to  their  keeping  ? 

If  all  the  women  in  the  world  should 
make  up  their  minds  that  they  wanted  to 
vote  more  than  anything  else  on  earth — 
worse  even  than  they  want  their  husbands 
to  go  to  church  with  them — and  each  wom- 
an would  put  on  her  prettiest  clothes,  and 
cuddle  up  to  her  own  particular  man  in  her 
softest  and  most  womanish  way,  when  she 
was  begging  him  to  get  suffrage  for  her — 
why,  you  all  know  they  would  do  it.  Men 
would  get  it  for  us  exactly  as  they  would 
buy  us  a  pair  of  horses. 

Have  you  men  ever  thought  about  prac- 
tising for  suffrage  in  politics  by  giving  wom- 
en suffrage  in  love  ?  Surely  you  do  not 
doubt  that,  should  you  do  this,  it  would  not 
occur  to  us  to  stuff  the  ballot-boxes,  or  to 
put  up  a  ticket  with  any  but  honorable  can- 
didates for  our  hands.  We  do  not  ask  nor 
wish  to  indicate  who  shall  run  for  office. 
Let  the  men  announce  themselves  candi- 


46  WOMAN'S  RIGHTS  IN  LOVE 

dates.  We  would  not  take  the  initiative 
there  if  it  were  offered  to  us  for  a  thousand 
years.  All  we  ask  is  to  be  given  plenty  of 
time  to  canvass  the  honor  of  the  candidates, 
thoroughly  to  understand  and  investigate 
the  platform  (with  an  eye  to  how  near  he 
will  come  to  sticking  to  his  promises  after 
election),  and  to  be  allowed  to  cast  a  free 
and  untrammelled  vote. 

Now,  men  seem  to  think  that  if  they  al- 
lowed woman  equal  suffrage,  the  bright  white 
light  of  our  honesty  would  be  too  strong  a 
glare  for  their  weak  eyes — so  long  accus- 
tomed to  darkness — to  bear.  Um — possibly 
in  politics.  Hardly  in  love. 

For  myself,  I  consider  absolute  honesty 
most  unpleasant.  I  never  knew  any  really 
nice,  lovable  women  who. were  unflinching- 
ly honest.  But  I  have  known  a  few  iron- 
visagecl,  square-jawed  women  who  were  so 
brutally  honest  that  I  have  most  inglorious- 
ly  fled  at  the  mention  of  their  approach, 
and  solaced  myself  with  a  congenial  spirit 
who  is  in  the  habit  of  skirting  delicately 
around  painful  truth,  and  a  cozy  corner  in 
which  to  abuse  the  aforesaid  iron-visaged 


WOMAN'S  RIGHTS  IN  LOVE  47 

carver  of  helpless  humanity,  who  loves  to 
draw  blood  with  her  truth.  Such  an  one  will 
get  a  vote  in  politics  long  before  she  gets  it 
in  love. 

No;  men  need  not  fear  to  give  us  equal 
suffrage  in  love.  Our  honesty  will  not  be 
disconcerting.  (I  would  even  address  a  pri- 
vate query,  at  just  this  point,  to  the  wom- 
en, begging  that  the  men  will  skip  it,  ask- 
ing women  where  in  the  world  we  would 
find  ourselves  if  we  were  unflinchingly  hon- 
est with  the  men  who  love  us?)  No  one 
will  deny  that  we  would  even  countenance 
a  certain  amount  of  corruption.  We  fully 
agree  with  those  men  who  tell  us  weakly 
questioning  women  that  campaign  funds  are 
a  necessity.  We  never  have  been  able  to 
discover  just  where  the  money  in  politics 
went  to,  but  the  expenses  of  a  campaign  in 
our  line  are  more  in  evidence.  I  doubt  if 
the  most  straitlaced  Puritan  will  gainsay 
me  when  I  declare  that  bribery  from  the 
candidates,  in  the  form  of  theatres,  opera- 
boxes,  flowers,  bonbons,  and  books,  would 
not  only  be  tolerated,  but  even,  in  a  modest 
manner,  encouraged — having,  of  course,  a 


48  WOMAN'S  RIGHTS  IN  LOVE 

keen  eye  as  to  the  elasticity  of  the  cam- 
paign fund.  But,  of  course,  just  as  vulgar 
bribery,  per  se,  only  catches  the  easy  and 
unthinking  voter  in  politics,  so,  in  like 
manner,  would  these  evidences  of  generos- 
ity only  capture  the  less  desirable  voter 
in  love.  When  you  men  are  trying  for  a 
woman's  vote  you  need  give  yourselves  no 
uneasiness.  If  she  is  worth  having,  char- 
acter wins  every  time.  You  don't  believe 
that.  That  is  why  you  trust  to  bribery  to 
do  it  all.  And  it  is  also  why  so  many  of 
you  get  the  girl  you  try  for  —  which  is 
about  the  richest  punishment  you  could 
receive. 

I  adore  Hamlet.  Not  because  he  was  so 
noble  as  to  give  up  his  life  to  avenge  his 
father's  most  foul  murder.  Not  because  he 
was  a  chivalrous  King  Arthur,  to  protect 
Ophelia's  womanly  pride  from  the  jeers  of 
a  coarse  court  by  openly  declaring  that 
he  had  loved  her  when  he  hadn't.  Not  for 
any  of  Shakespeare's  reasons  for  painting 
him  a  hero.  But  for  two  much  more  rea- 
sonable reasons.  One  that  he  said,  "  I  my- 
self am  indifferent  honest"  —  oh,  the  hu- 


WOMAN  S   RIGHTS    IN    LOVE 


49 


inanity  of  Hamlet!  —  and  the  other  that, 
when  under  the  spell  of  her  beauty  and 
in  the  tentative,  interested  stage  when  he 
cared  for  her  all  but  enough  to  ask  her 
to  marry  him,  he  had  the  wit  to  discover 
that  she  was  a  fool.  Imagine  the  calamity 
of  Hamlet  married  to  Ophelia  !  That  would 
have  been  a  tragedy.  Think  of  a  man  clever 
enough  to  discover  that  his  idol  was  made 
of  putty — that  his  sweetheart  was  a  Rosa- 
mond Vincy!  Hamlet  was  a  wise  man.  He 
withdrew  in  time.  Most  men  have  to  be 
married  ten  years  to  discover  that  they  have 
married  an  Ophelia  or  a  Rosamond. 

It  is  a  trite  saying  that  the  whole  world 
is  behind  a  woman  urging  her  to  marry. 
But  I  find  much  to  interest  me  in  trite  say- 
ings. I  like  to  get  hold  of  them,  and  look 
them  through,  and  turn  them  wrong  side  out, 
and  pull  them  to  pieces  to  find  how  much 
life  there  is  in  them.  Psychological  vivi- 
section is  not  a  subject  for  the  humane  so- 
ciety. A  trite  saying  has  my  sympathy.  It 
generally  is  stupid  and  shop-worn,  and  con- 
sequently is  banished  to  polite  society  and 
hated  by  the  clever.  And  only  because  it 


50  WOMAN  S    RIGHTS    IN    LOVE 

possessed  a  soul  of  truth  and  a  wonderful 
vitality  has  it  been  kept  from  dying  long 
ago  of  a  broken  heart. 

Books  could  be  written  of -the  truth  of 
this  particular  trite  saying.  The  urging,  of 
course,  among  people  whom  we  know,  is 
neither  vulgar  nor  intentional.  It  takes  the 
form  of  jests,  of  pseudo-humorous  questions 
if  a  man  sends  flowers  two  or  three  times. 
But  it  takes  its  worst  and  most  common 
form  in  the  sudden  melting  away  of  the 
family  if  the  man  calls  and  finds  them  all 
together.  If  a  man  has  no  specific  inten- 
tions towards  a  girl,  and  has  not  determined 
in  his  own  mind  that  he  wants  to  marry 
her;  if  he  is  only  liking  her  a  great  deal, 
with  but  an  occasional  wonder  in  the  depths 
of  his  own  heart  whether  this  girl  is  the 
wife  for  him ;  to  call  upon  her  casually  and 
see  the  family  scatter,  and  other  callers  has- 
tily leave,  is  enough  to  scare  him  to  death. 
And  the  girl  herself  has  a  right  to  be  furi- 
ously indignant.  When  eligible  young  peo- 
ple are  in  that  tentative  stage,  it  is  death 
to  a  love  to  make  them  self-conscious. 

I  myself  am  so   afraid  of  brushing  the 


WOMAN  S    RIGHTS    IN    LOVE  51 

down  from  the  butterfly  wings  at  this  point 
that,  occasionally,  when  I  have  been  calling, 
and  the  girl's  possible  lover  has  caught  me 
before  I  could  escape  in  a  natural  manner, 
I  have  doggedly  remained,  even  knowing 
that  perhaps  he  wished  me  well  away  among 
the  angels,  rather  than  to  run  the  risk  of 
making  him  conscious  that  I  understood 
his  state  of  mind.  Imagine  my  feelings  of 
anguish,  however,  at  holding  on  against  my 
will  and  against  theirs,  wanting  somebody 
to  help  me  let  go  !  Much  better,  I  solace 
myself  afterwards,  that  he  should  wish  me 
away  than  to  look  after  my  retreating  form 
and  wish,  in  Heaven's  name,  that  I  had 
stayed  !  Better  for  the  girl,  I  mean.  For 
my  own  feelings — but  I  do  not  count.  I 
am  only  giving  a  girl  one  of  her  rights  in 
love.  A  few  judicious  obstacles  but  whet 
a  man's  appetite  —  if  he  is  worth  having. 
And  I  do  not  mind  being  a  judicious  obsta- 
cle once  in  a  while — if  I  like  the  girl. 

As  to  how  far  a  girl  has  a  right  to  en- 
courage a  man  in  love,  opinions  differ.  I 
once  asked  a  clever  literary  friend  of  mine, 
whose  husband  is  so  satisfactory  that  it  is 


52 

quite  a  delightful  shock  to  discover  it,  how 
far  men  ought  to  be  encouraged  to  make 
love. 

"  Encourage  them  all  you  can,  my  dear. 
The  best  of  men  require  all  the  encourage- 
ment one  is  capable  of  giving  them." 

I  pondered  over  that  statement.  From 
her  point  of  view  it  was,  of  course,  perfect- 
ly proper.  Married  men  need  all  the  en- 
couragement they  can  get  to  keep  them 
making  love  to  their  own  wives.  But  from 
our  standpoint,  of  being  girls  —  and  very 
nice  girls  too,  some  of  us,  if  I  do  say  it 
myself!  —  how  far  have  we  a  right  to  en- 
courage men  to  make  love  to  us  ? 

Now  I  like  men  ;  and  I  like  girls.  So 
that  I  never  want  anybody  to  be  hurt  at 
this  very  delicate  and  dangerous  game  of 
love-making.  But  somebody  always  is  get- 
ting hurt,  and  although  she  never  makes 
any  fuss  about  it,  it  is  generally  the  girl. 

There  are  two  reasons  for  this.  One  is 
that  love  means  twice — yes,  twenty,  forty — 
times  as  much  to  a  girl  as  to  a  man ;  and 
the  second  is  that  we  are  a  believing  set  of 
human  geese,  and  we  believe  a  great  deal  of 


WOMAN  S    RIGHTS    IN    LOVE  53 

what  you  men  say,  which  is  wrong  of  us, 
and  much  more  of  what  your  pronounced 
actions  over  us  imply,  which  is  worse. 
Girls  are  just  the  same  along  the  main  lines 
of  sentiment  and  hope  and  trust  and  belief 
in  men  now  as  they  ever  were,  and  most  of 
this  talk  about  the  new  woman  being  dif- 
ferent is  mere  stuff  and  nonsense. 

Now,  the  men  come  in  right  at  this  point 
and  declare  that  we  ought  not  to  believe  so 
much  ;  that  until  they  have  actually  pro- 
posed marriage,  often  they  themselves  do 
not  know  their  own  minds  ;  that  a  man  has 
a  perfect  right  to  withdraw,  a  la  Hamlet,  if 
he  finds  insurmountable  flaws  in  the  girl's 
nature,  or,  what  is  oftener  the  case,  some- 
body whom  he  likes  better;  and  they  in- 
timate pretty  strongly  that  broken  hearts, 
or  even  slightly  damaged  affections,  are 
largely  our  own  fault,  which,  from  their 
standpoint,  is  true  enough,  and  if  we  were 
men  we  would  all  say  so  too. 

But,  looking  at  it  from  our  standpoint, 
does  it  not  seem  as  if  the  men  had  all  the 
rights  on  their  side  ?  And  will  they  be  as 
generous  in  this  as  they  are  in  everything 


54  WOMAN'S  RIGHTS  IN  LOVE 

else  where  we  are  concerned,  and  view  the 
matter  from  our  point  of  view,  with  the  side- 
lights turned  on  ? 

In  the  first  place,  there  is  practically  the 
whole  world  of  women  before  men  from 
which  to  choose.  Think  of  that !  Thousands 
of  women,  and  with  the  additional  advan- 
tage of  the  right  to  make  the  first  advances! 
How  many  do  we  have  to  choose  from  ? 
We  can't  roam  around  the  world  by  our- 
selves, even  to  see  all  the  desirable  men, 
much  less  manage  to  meet  and  study  them. 
We  have  to  wait  to  be  approached  even 
by  the  meagre  few  whom  a  gracious  Provi- 
dence casts  in  our  way.  If  a  girl  receives 
three  proposals,  that,  I  am  told,  is  a  fair 
average.  If  she  receives  ten,  she  is  either 
an  heiress  or  a  belle.  If  she  receives  more 
than  ten,  she  must  visit  in  the  West.  Think 
now,  reasonably,  of  the  limited  opportunities 
of  the  most  fortunate  of  us,  compared  with 
the  limitless  opportunities  of  the  least  fort- 
unate of  you. 

Then,  too,  in  order  to  make  ourselves  de- 
sirable, we  are  not  to  be  froward  or  unduly 
prominent.  We  are  to  sit  quietly  at  home 


WOMAN  S    RIGHTS    IN    LOVE  55 

and  wait  to  be  asked.  We  are  not  to  take 
.a  man's  words,  uttered  under  the  magnetism 
of  our  presence,  for  truth.  We  are  not  to 
judge  by  his  manner  if  he  does  not  speak. 
We  are  not  to  flirt  with  any  other  man  when 
one  man  is  considering  us  as  a  possible  wife 
(although  we  don't  know  that  he  is,  and  it 
is  dangerous  to  guess),  because  he  does  not 
like  that.  It  shows,  he  thinks,  a  "  frivolous 
nature,"  or  "  a  desire  to  attract,"  or  a  "  ten- 
dency to  flirt,"  or  it  is  "unwomanly,"  or 
"  unworthy  a  true  woman."  There  are  some 
other  things  men  say  to  us  if  several  men 
are  attentive  at  the  same  time,  but  I  have 
forgotten  the  rest.  They  are  very  convinc- 
ing, however.  Then,  when  the  man  has 
made  up  his  mind  that  he  wants  us  as  his 
wife  (that  grammar  sounds  polygamous,  but 
my  whole  philosophy  of  life  is  against  that 
idea),  why,  we  are  to  be  ready  to  drop  into 
his  arms  like  a  ripe  plum  and  not  keep  him 
on  tenter-hooks  of  anxiety,  because  only  co- 
quettes do  that. 

Now  I  am  not  endeavoring  to  do  an  ex- 
ceptional man  justice,  who  will  resent  that 
somewhat  broad  platform.  I  am  only  pre- 


56  WOMAN  S   RIGHTS   IN   LOVE 

senting  the  attitude  of  man  in  general,  from 
a  girl's  standpoint.  And  if  you  will  view  it 
as  referring  to  "other  men  "  and  not  to  your- 
self, you  will  be  quite  willing  to  admit  that 
it  is,  in  the  main,  true. 

Now  if,  in  order  to  avoid  heartaches,  and 
so  be  able  to  blame  you  for  something  you 
never  intended  and  which  you  are  not  will- 
ing to  shoulder,  we  are  not  to  let  ourselves 
go,  when  we  feel  like  falling  in  love  with 
you,  do  you  give  us  leave  to  allow  every 
one  of  you  to  get  clear  up  to  the  proposing- 
point  and  come  flatly  out  with  the  words 
"Will  you  marry  me?"  before  we  let  you 
know  whether  we  want  you  or  not,  or  before 
we  begin  to  let  ourselves  go  ? 

Come  now.  Own  up,  you  men.  How 
well  do  we  girls  know  you  when  you  have 
called  on  us  three  hundred  and  sixty-five 
times  in  succession  ?  Not  at  all.  We  know 
only  what  we  can  see  and  hear.  How  well 
do  we  know  you  when  we  have  been  engaged 
to  you  six  months  ?  Not  at  all.  We  know 
only  what  you  have  been  unable  to  conceal 
of  your  faults,  and  the  virtues  you  have  dis- 
played in  your  show-windows.  How  long 


WOMAN'S  RIGHTS  IN  LOVE  57 

must  a  woman  be  married  to  a  man  before 
she  understands  him  thoroughly  —  as  thor- 
oughly as  she  ought  to  have  understood 
him  before  she  ever  dared  to  stand  up  at 
an  altar  and  promise  to  love  him  and  live 
with  him  until  death  did  them  part  ? 

A  broken  engagement  ought  to  be  con- 
sidered a  blessed  thing  as  a  preventive  of 
further  and  worse  ills.  But  it  is  not.  It 
militates  seriously  against  a  girl.  Not  so 
much  with  men  as  with  women.  That  is 
one  of  the  times,  and  there  are  many 
others,  when  men  are  broader  and  more 
just  than  women.  The  ordinary  man,  taken 
at  random,  will  say,  "  Probably  he  was  a 
worthless  fellow."  The  ordinary  woman  will 
say,  "  She  ought  to  have  known  her  own 
mind  better." 

The  odd  part  of  all  this  is  that,  even  if 
you  men,  as  a  body,  should  say  to  all  the 
girls :  "  Go  ahead.  Encourage  us  to  the 
top  of  your  bent.  Let  us  propose  without 
any  knowledge  based  on  your  past  actions 
or  words  as  to  whether  we  are  going  to 
be  accepted  or  not,  and  we  will  take  the 
result  cheerfully  and  won't  rage  or  howl 


58  WOMAN  S    RIGHTS    IN    LOVE 

about    it"  —  that   not    one    of    us    would 
do  it. 

"  How  conscience  doth  make  cowards  of 
us  all!"  We  might  consider  that  you  were 
only  giving  us  our  rights  in  love.  We 
might  theorize  beautifully  about  it,  and 
even  vow  we  were  going  to  take  you  at 
your  word  and  do  it.  But  we  couldn't.  It 
simply  isn't  in  us.  We  could  not  be  so  un- 
just to  you — so  untrue  to  ourselves.  The 
great  maternal  heart  of  woman,  which  bears 
the  greater  part  of  all  the  sufferings  in  this 
world  that  the  men  and  little  children  may 
go  free,  prevents  us  from  taking  any  such 
so-called  rights  from  you,  at  the  cost  of 
suffering  on  your  part.  Women  have  ten- 
derer hearts  than  men  for  a  purpose,  and 
if  they  are  hurt  oftener  than  men's,  why, 
that  is  for  us  to  bear.  We  cannot  make 
ourselves  over  and  turn  Amazons  at  your 
expense. 


MEN  AS  LOVERS 

'  God  measures  souls  by  their  capacity 
For  entertaining  his  best  angel,  Love" 

***** 
'  //  is  a  common  fate — a  woman's  lot — 

To  waste  on  one  the  riches  of  her  soul, 
Who   takes  the  wealth  she  gives  him,   but 

cannot 
Repay  the  interest,  and  much  less  the  whole. 

1  Are  you  not  kind?    Ah,  yes,  so  very  kind, 

So  thoughtful  of  my  comfort,  and  so  true. 
Yes,  yes,  dear  heart,  but  I,  not  being  blind, 
Know  that  I  am  not  loved  as  I  love  you. 

'  One  tenderer  word,  a  little  longer  kiss, 

Would  fill  my  soul  with  music  and  with 

song  ; 

And  if  you  seem  abstracted,  or  I  miss 
The  heart-tone  from  your  voice,  my  world 
goes  wrong" 


MEN  AS  LOVERS 


MEN  seldom  make  perfect  lovers.  I 
deeply  regret  being  obliged  to  say  this,  as 
they  are  about  all  we  girls  have  to  de- 
pend upon  in  that  line;  but  it  is  the  solemn 
truth.  I  do  not  pretend  to  say  why  this  is 
so.  I  suppose  it  is  because  a  man  never 
dwells  upon  the  sentimental  side  of  life, 
nor  understands  the  emotions,  unless  he  is 
either  a  poet  or  a  Miss  Nancy,  and  it  is 
almost  equally  dangerous  to  marry  either 
of  those. 

Pray,  do  not  be  offended,  my  friends  the 
poets,  at  being  mentioned  in  the  same  para- 
graph with  a  Miss  Nancy,  until  you  discover 
the  exact  meaning  of  that  effective  term  of 
opprobrium.  A  Miss  Nancy  is  a  poet  with- 
out genius,  one  who  has  a  talent  for  discov- 
ering the  fineness  of  life,  but  who  lacks  the 


62  MEN   AS    LOVERS 

wit  to  keep  his  views  from  ridicule.  It  is  not 
a  step  of  the  seven-league  boots  between  the 
sublime  and  the  ridiculous.  Sometimes  it 
is  only  an  invisible  step  of  the  tiniest  patent- 
leathers. 

I  never  could  understand  why  a  man  who 
plays  a  good  game  of  whist  should  not 
know  how  to  make  love.  There  are  so 
many  points  in  common.  You  can  play  a 
game  of  whist  with  only  enough  skill  to 
keep  your  partner's  hands  from  your  throat, 
or  you  can  play  it  for  all  there  is  in  it. 

Now  I  am  not  a  whist-player.  Ask  those 
who  have  played  with  me,  and  see  the  well- 
bred  murder  in  their  eyes  as  they  remember 
their  wrongs.  They  will  tell  you  that  I  can 
take  all  the  tricks — not  just  the  odd,  but 
three,  four,  and  five  tricks — yet  I  am  not 
playing  whist.  I  am  just  winning  the  game, 
that  is  all.  If  my  partner,  in  an  unthink- 
ing moment,  says,  "  Let's  win  this  game," 
we  win  it.  But  it  is  like  saying  to  the  cab- 
driver,  "  You  make  that  train."  We  make 
the  train  and  say  nothing  about  taking  off  a 
wheel  or  two  in  the  process.  Once,  after  a 
game  of  this  kind,  my  partner  said  to  me, 


MEN   AS    LOVERS  63 

"Allow  me  to  congratulate  you  upon  a  most 
brilliant  game — of  cards!" 

Now  you  must  not  think  me  either  stupid 
or  blundering.  I  play  with  magnificent  ef- 
frontery, often  rushing  in  where  angels  fear 
to  tread  ;  but,  somehow,  effrontery  is  not  the 
best  qualification  for  a  whist-player.  I  am 
too  lucky  at  holding  the  cards,  and  play 
each  one  to  win.  I  am  lavish  with  trumps. 
I  delight  to  lead  them  first  hand  round,  but 
I  have  not  the  courage  of  my  convictions, 
for  I  always  feel  little  quivers  of  fear  when 
I  do  it,  because  when  my  trumps  and  aces 
are  gone,  then  I'm  gone  too.  I  have  no 
skill  in  finesse,  in  the  subtlety,  the  delicate 
moves  which  are  the  inherent  qualities  of  a 
game  of  whist.  To  tell  the  brutal  truth, 
I  play  my  own  hand.  Could  anything  be 
worse,  dear  shade  of  Sarah  Battle,  even  if  I 
do  win  ?  In  short,  my  manner  of  playing 
whist  is  the  way  some  men,  most  men,  make 
love. 

Now  you  know,  brothers  —  I  call  you 
brothers  to  prove  how  very  friendly  my  feel- 
ings are  towards  you,  even  if  I  do  show  you 
up  from  our  side — you  know  that  a  good 


64  MEN   AS    LOVERS 

whist-player  is  only  slightly  interested  in 
the  play  of  the  great  cards.  His  fine  in- 
stinct comes  into  play  when  the  delicate 
points  of  the  game  are  in  evidence ;  when 
it  is  a  question  of  who  holds  the  seven  of 
clubs,  if  he  leads  the  six  in  the  last  hand, 
or  of  the  lurking-place  of  the  thirteenth 
trump.  I  never  can  remember  anything  be- 
low the  jack,  and  I  give  up  playing  whist 
forever  at  least  once  every  month.  But  I 
am  so  weak  that  I  return  to  it  again  and 
again,  as  a  smoker  does  to  his  brier-wood. 
I  feel  partly  vexed  and  partly  sorry  for  my- 
self when  I  realize  that  I  cannot  play — I 
can  only  win.  I  have  seen  men  win  very 
superior  girls,  but  they  have  done  it  in  a 
manner  which  would  disgust  a  good  whist- 
player.  Yet  they,  too,  keep  on  with  their 
indifferent  love-making  with  the  same  fatal 
human  weakness  which  sees  me  brave  the 
baleful  light  in  my  partner's  eyes  night  after 
night — when  I  am  in  a  whist-playing  com- 
munity. Many  men  make  love  because  the 
girl  is  convenient  and  they  happen  to  think 
about  it.  It  never  would  occur  to  me  to 
hunt  up  three  people  at  a  country-house 


MEN   AS    LOVERS  65 

and  ask  them  to  play  whist.  But  if  three 
are  at  a  table,  and  there  is  no  one  else,  I 
drop  into  the  vacant  place,  which  could  be 
filled  much  better  by  a  skilled  player,  with 
pathetic  willingness. 

I  wonder  if  a  man  ever  deliberately  made 
up  his  mind  to  marry,  and  then  hunted  up 
his  ideal  girl  ?  Alas,  alas,  if  he  did,  I  never 
heard  of  him  !  But  I  have  seen  scores  of 
them  drop  into  vacant  chairs  at  the  girls' 
sides,  and  make  love  just  because  they  were 
handy. 

We  hate  this  "handy"  love-making,  we 
girls.  You  needn't  think  we  don't  know  it 
when  we  hear  it.  Sometimes  we  are  not  so 
stupid  as  we  pretend.  But  we  never  let  you 
see  that  we  are  clever  enough  to  understand 
you,  because  you  don't  want  us  to.  And  I 
must  say  that  I  cannot  blame  you.  If  we 
girls  are  pretending  to  you  that  we  have 
been  waiting  all  our  lives  for  just  you,  we 
dislike  to  have  you  discover  that  we  have 
employed  those  years  of  waiting  very  satis- 
factorily to  ourselves,  so  much  so  that  a 
casual  observer  would  not  have  suspected 
the  emptiness  of  them. 


66  MEN   AS   LOVERS 

So  your  funny  little  pretences  are  all  very 
well,  provided  you  do  not  let  us  catch  you 
in  them.  Only — possibly  you  do  not  know 
how  many  times  we  do  catch  you.  That  is 
one  of  the  chief  points.  You  never  know 
how  many  times  we  see  through  you  and 
beyond,  and  know  just  why  you  did  certain 
things  much  better  than  you  yourselves 
know  it.  Of  course,  it  would  not  be  wise 
for  us  to  tell  you  this  individually,  for  that 
would  break  up  the  meeting;  but  there  is  no 
harm  in  letting  you  know  in  bulk. 

I  suppose  there  is  not  a  man  in  the  world 
who  would  not  be  surprised  if  he  knew  that 
we  do  not  consider  men  good  lovers.  We 
have  accepted  them,  and  been  engaged  to 
them,  and  married  them,  and  pretended  to 
them,  and,  what  is  worse  still,  pretended  to 
ourselves  that  they  were  satisfactory,  but 
the  truth  is  they  were  not,  and  they  are 
not,  and  this  is  the  first  time  we  have  dared 
to  say  so. 

Now  don't  expect,  if  you  go  to  your  wife 
or  your  sweetheart  and  ask  her  if  this  is 
so,  that  she  is  going  to  tell  you  the  truth 
about  it.  I  wouldn't  either.  I  would  pre- 


MEN    AS    LOVERS  67 

tend  that  the  others  might  be  unsatisfac- 
tory as  lovers,  but  that  you — well,  you  just 
suited  me,  that's  all.  I  would  have  to,  you 
understand,  to  keep  you  going.  And  that 
is  what  your  sweetheart  will  do.  If  she  did 
not,  you  would  get  cross  and  sulky,  and  there 
would  be  a  week  of  unhappiness  for  both 
of  you,  and  then  the  girl  would  apologize 
and  back  down  from  her  position,  and  then 
you  would  go  on  exactly  as  you  did  before. 

No,  if  you  are  going  to  profit  by  this  at  all, 
do  not  talk  it  over  with  any  woman  you  love. 
Talk  it  over  with  some  clever  woman  whom 
you  might  have  loved  if  you  had  not  met  your 
wife  first.  She  will  tell  you  the  truth  because 
she  has  nothing  to  lose.  A  man  will  always 
take  more  from  his  Platonic  friend  than  he 
will  from  his  own  sweetheart  or  wife. 

I  wonder  why  things  are  so.  Is  it  that 
ideal  love  is  only  founded  upon  the  truth 
and  the  superstructure  is  built  of  fabrica- 
tions ?  Is  it  that  we  women  are  much  more 
artistic  and  more  clever  at  masquerading  the 
truth  that  we  make  so  much  better  lovers 
than  the  men  ?  Oh,  the  scores  and  scores 
of  men  who  have  told  me  what  their  wives 


68  MEN   AS    LOVERS 

thought  of  them,  and  then  the  looks  these 
wives  have  shot  at  me  across  the  flowers  on 
the  dinner  -  table  !  Only  one  glance,  which 
no  man  caught,  telegraphing,  "  Do  I,  though  ? 
You  are  a  woman  and  you  know.  You  know 
what  I  would  have  if  I  could,  but  how  I 
have  had  to  make  him  believe  that  he  was 
all  of  that,  because  he  is  my  husband." 
Not  that  she  is  dissatisfied  with  him.  Not 
that  she  would  give  him  up.  Not  that  she 
would  leave  him  or  have  anybody  else  if 
she  could.  She  loves  him  all  she  can,  and 
he  loves  her  all  he  wants  to.  He  has  won 
the  game,  but  he  has  not  played  for  all 
there  was  in  it. 

I  never  have  been  able  to  make  up  my 
mind  whether  ideal  love  was  the  best,  or 
if  love  with  a  great  deal  of  common-sense 
in  it  was  not  the  most  philosophical  and 
better  in  the  long-run.  But  to  those  of  us 
who  are  romantic  it  is  fearful  to  think  of 
deliberately  turning  our  backs  on  terrapin 
and  lobster  and  ice-cream,  and  meditating 
upon  plain  bread  and  cold  potatoes.  You 
men  do  not  recognize  the  romantic  streak 
which,  of  more  or  less  breadth  and  thick- 


MEN   AS    LOVERS  69 

ness,  runs  through  every  woman,  making 
her  love  good  love-making.  You  are  so 
terribly  practical  and  common -sense  and 
every-day.  We  girls  like  flowers,  and  men- 
tal indigestibles,  and  occasional  Sundays. 
We  do  not  know  why  we  do,  but  we  do, 
and  we  cannot  help  it,  and  if  you  are  go- 
ing to  make  love  according  to  Hoyle  you 
must  recognize  this  fact,  and  pamper  us  in 
our  folly.  Don't  we  pamper  you  ? 

Now  I  know  perfectly  well  how  some  of 
you  are  going  to  work  at  it.  You  will  begin 
by  thinking,  "Yes,  that's  true.  I've  got  a 
girl  like  that,  and,  by  Jove,  I'll  humor  her!" 
Bless  your  dear  hearts  !  Your  intentions 
are  always  of  the  best.  If  only  you  knew 
how  to  carry  them  out !  But  the  first  time 
you  come  across  a  little  unreasonable,  sen- 
timental folly  of  hers,  you  will  take  her  hand 
in  yours  and  say,  "  Yes,  dear,  I  understand 
just  what  you  mean.  I  know  exactly  how 
you  feel  on  the  subject,  and  I  am  perfectly 
willing  to  do  what  you  want  me  to.  But, 
don't  you  see,  if  I  do,  it  would  look  just  a 
little  queer  to  mother  " — (or  the  boys,  or  the 
other  fellows,  or  to  Jessie  and  the  girls,  or  to 


70  MEN   AS    LOVERS 

— you  may  insert  the  name  for  yourself) — 
"  and,  while  I  want  to  please  you,  I  hardly 
think  that  is  quite  the  way  to  go  about  it; 
so,  if  you  will  be  the  dear,  sensible  little 
woman  that  you  always  are,  we  will  simply 
take  a  nice  little  walk,  instead  of  going  to 
Europe,  and  I  will  try  to  make  it  just  as  en- 
joyable to  you.  You  know  I  shall  be  with 
you,  darling,  and  haven't  you  often  said 
that  you  were  perfectly  happy  wherever  I 
was  ?"  And  darling  will  begin  a  weak  ar- 
gument in  favor  of  her  little  unreasonable, 
sentimental  whim  represented  by  "  Europe," 
although  she  sees  that  your  mind  is  made 
up.  But  you  have  seen  her  weaken  at  your 
smooth  talk,  and  you  give  her  some  more ; 
and  if  that  doesn't  do,  why,  you  kiss  her, 
and  then  she's  gone.  And  before  you  leave 
her  she  has  assured  you  that  she  really 
would  "just  as  soon"  or  "much  rather" 
take  a  walk  than  go  to  Europe ;  and  you 
come  out  whistling  and  thinking  what  a 
dear  little  thing  she  is,  and  how  much  you 
love  her.  Oh,  you  have  won  !  Nobody  de- 
nies that ;  but  look  at  your  partner's  face  if 
you  want  to  know  how  you  have  done  it. 


MEN   AS   LOVERS  71 

Why  didn't  you  do  as  you  said  you  were 
going  to?  Why  didn't  you  do  it  her  way? 
Why  don't  you  study  your  sweetheart,  and 
learn  to  know  her,  and  to  know  the  real  wom- 
an— the  side  she  never  shows  to  you  nowa- 
days ?  Because,  just  as  soon  as  she  sees 
your  way  of  doing,  she  is  going  to  hunt  up 
a  new  way  of  managing  you.  It  is  all  your 
own  fault  that  you  are  managed  (as  you  all 
know  you  are),  and  your  fault  that  you  get 
pale -gray  truth  instead  of  the  pure  white. 
It  starts  out  pure  white,  but  it  is  doctored 
before  it  reaches  you. 

You  never  are  satisfied  to  do  anything 
else  in  the  slovenly  way  in  which  you  make 
love.  I  know  a  man  who  is  just  an  ordi- 
nary man  in  everything  else ;  but  to  see 
him  drive  a  spirited  horse  is  to  know  that 
he  has  the  making  of  a  good  lover  in  him. 
He  is  full  of  enthusiasm  in  studying  his 
horse's  disposition.  He  will  interrupt  the 
most  interesting  conversation  to  say,  "There, 
Pet,  that  pile  of  stones  won't  hurt  you.  Go 
on,  now,  like  the  pretty  little  lady  that  you 
are.  Here's  a  nice  bit  of  road.  Hold  your 
head  up  and  just  show  what  you  can  do. 


72  MEN    AS    LOVERS 

That's  right.  That's  my  beauty.  See  how 
she  reaches  out.  Isn't  she  handsome  ? 
Quiet,  now,  Pet.  Take  this  hill  easily.  We 
know  you  could  keep  up  that  pace  for  an 
hour,  but  you  mustn't  tire  yourself  all  out 
just  because  you  have  a  willing  spirit.  See 
her  look  around  to  see  if  I  am  pleased  with 
her!"  "Dear  me,  that's  nothing,"  I  said. 
"  Any  woman  would  do  as  much,  if  you 
treated  her  that  way."  He  is  responsive, 
so  he  grinned  appreciatively.  He  spends 
hours  studying  that  horse's  traits.  He  is 
always  saying  that  she  won't  back,  or  that 
she  hates  this  and  is  afraid  of  that.  His 
horse  never  has  to  do  anything  that  she 
doesn't  want  to ;  but  his  wife  does. 

You  men  would  not  do  business,  or  even 
play  golf,  without  many  times  the  thought 
you  put  into  your  love-making.  Of  course, 
now,  I  am  not  talking  of  the  sleepless  nights 
or  the  anxious  days  you  spent  before  you 
knew  whether  she  loved  you.  No,  indeed ; 
you  did  enough  thinking  and  worrying  then 
to  please  anybody.  But  I  am  referring  to 
the  girl  to  whom  you  are  engaged,  perhaps 
you  are  married  to  her,  and  have  been  for 


MEN    AS    LOVERS  73 

forty  years.  You  are  not  too  old  yet  to 
know  that  you  have  not  been  a  perfect 
lover.  I  know  that  old  story,  that  men  are 
so  fond  of  telling  just  here,  about  a  man 
running  for  a  car  before  he  has  caught  it. 
Yes,  we  know  all  that.  But  we  want  you 
to  keep  on  running. 

However,  on  the  other  hand,  I  know 
that  ideal  love  is  a  difficult  thing  to  man- 
age, from  our  point  of  view.  It  is  a  fearful 
strain  to  live  up  to  it.  In  fact,  nobody  can 
do  it.  But  I  never  could  see  why  you  had 
to  stick  to  one  or  the  other.  Why  can't 
you  mix  the  two? 

Ideal  love  is  a  beautiful  thing  to  think 
about  or  to  live  in  for  a  few  weeks  or 
months — according  to  your  temperament. 
It  cannot  be  equalled  for  the  first  part  of 
an  engagement  or  the  honeymoon.  But 
it  is  like  going  to  the  theatre  and  see- 
ing the  grandeur  of  the  old  gray  castle, 
and  the  perpetual  moonlight,  and  the  de- 
voted love  of  the  satin  duchess  for  the 
velvet  duke.  You  know  that  it  is  just  act- 
ing, and  that  the  villain  is  not  really  going 
to  swim  the  moat  with  his  band  of  steel 


74  MEN   AS    LOVERS 

warriors,  and  burn  the  castle,  and  capture 
the  duchess  and  marry  her  by  force.  Yet  I 
love  to  pretend.  I  dearly  love  to  take  two 
pocket-handkerchiefs  with  me  and  sop  them 
both — and  I  would  like  to  cry  out  loud, 
only  I  never  do  ;  but  I  always  have  to  pull 
my  veil  down  and  feel  my  way  out  of  the 
theatre.  I  love  to  throw  myself  into  it,  and 
it  always  annoys  me  when  the  acting  is  so 
bad  that  I  cannot.  If  any  man  sees  any 
moral  in  that,  let  him  heed  it,  and  believe 
that  I  am  only  one  of  ten  thousand  other 
girls  who  would  like  to  throw  ourselves  into 
the  illusion  of  it  only  your  acting  is  so  bad 
that  we  cannot. 

If  men  would  only  realize  that  the  ma- 
terial side  is  what  we  girls  care  the  least 
for.  Pray  do  not  think,  just  because  you 
have  built  us  Colonial  houses,  and  have 
our  clothes  made  for  us,  and  never  allow 
butchers'  bills  to  annoy  us,  that  you  have 
done  your  whole  duty  by  us.  It  never 
occurs  to  most  of  us  who  have  those  dear 
American  men  for  husbands  and  lovers 
that  we  ever  really  could  become  cold  or 
hungry.  You  would  be  very  unhappy  if 


MEN    AS    LOVERS  75 

you  thought  anybody  belonging  to  you  did 
not  have  all  the  clothes  she  wanted,  and 
the  best  in  the  market.  But  you  think  it 
is  a  huge  joke  when  we  say  that  we  are 
mentally  cold  and  hungry  a  great  deal  of 
the  time,  and  that  you  are  a  storehouse, 
with  all  that  we  need  right  within  your 
hearts  and  brains,  only  you  will  not  give  it 
to  us. 

When  you  want  to  surprise  us  with  a 
present,  what  do  you  do?  You  buy  us  a 
sealskin  or  a  diamond-ring.  Is  that  what 
you  think  we  want  ?  Perhaps  some  of  you 
have  a  wife  who  only  wants  such  things,  and 
who  cares  for  nothing  else  so  much.  If  so, 
give  them  to  her.  If  her  higher  nature  is 
satisfied  with  plush,  let  her  have  it.  Smother 
her  in  sealskins,  weigh  her  down  to  earth 
with  jewels.  But  the  rest  of  us?  What 
are  you  going  to  give  us  ? 


LOVE-MAKING  AS  A  FINE   ART 

If  tJiou  must  love  me,  let  it  be  for  naught 
Except  for  love's  sake  only.  Do  not  say 
'  /  love  her  for  her  smile — her  look — her 

way 

Of  speaking  gently— for  a  trick  of  thought 
That  falls   in  well  with   mine,    and  certes 

brought 

A  sense  of  pleasant  ease  on  such  a  day.' 
For   these   things,    in   themselves,   beloved, 

may 
Be  changed  or  change  for   thee — and  love 

so  wrought 

May  be  unwrought  so.    Neither  love  me  for 
Thine  own   dear  pity's  wiping  my  checks 

dry  ; 

A  creature  might  forget  to  weep,  who  bore 
Thy  comfort  long,  and  lose  thy  love  there- 

by. 

Rut  love  me  for  love's  sake,  that  evermore 
Thou  mayst  love  on  through  love's    eter- 
nity." 


LOVE-MAKING   AS   A  FINE  ART 


OF  course,  to  begin  with,  every  man  hon- 
estly believes  that  he  has  made,  is  making, 
or  could  make  a  good  lover. 

So  I  admit  at  the  outset  that  I  am  talk- 
ing to  the  lover  who  not  only  is  successful- 
in  his  own  estimation,  but  the  one  who  has 
been  encouraged  in  that  belief  by  his  own 
sweetheart  or  wife  until  he  has  every  right 
to  believe  in  himself. 

You  are  about  to  be  told  the  honest  truth 
for  once  in  your  life,  so  much  so  that  your 
wives  and  sweethearts  will  tell  me  behind 
your  back  that  every  word  of  it  is  true.  But 
after  you  have  clamored  for  years  to  know 
"  how  women  honestly  felt  on  such  sub- 
jects," and  when,  nettled  at  not  getting  the 
truth  from  us  individually,  you  have  de- 
clared that  "  the  best  of  women  are  natural- 


8o  LOVE-MAKING    AS    A    FINE   ART 

ly  a  little  bit  hypocritical,"  the  loveliest 
part  of  it  all  is  that  you  will  not  believe  a 
word  of  what  I  have  said,  and,  in  accord- 
ance with  that  belief,  will  calmly  announce 
that  I  don't  know  what  I  am  talking  about. 

Well,  perhaps  I  don't.  A  woman's  aim  is 
never  quite  true.  I  could  not  hit  the  bull's- 
eye.  But  in  this  case,  please  to  remember 
that  I  am  firing  at  a  barn-door  with  bird- 
shot. 

I  don't  blame  you  for  not  believing  me. 
It  is  against  your  whole  theory  of  life.  Not 
,to  believe  in  yourself  were  a  great  calamity. 
My  grandfather  was  so  unfortunately  accu- 
rate that  with  advancing  years  he  came 
whimsically  to  consider  himself  infallible. 
And  when,  urged  by  the  clamoring  of  his 
equally  accurate  family,  he  sometimes  con- 
sented to  consult  the  dictionary,  and  he 
found  that  he  differed  from  it,  it  never 
disturbed  his  belief  in  himself.  He  closed 
the  book,  saying,  placidly,  "But  the  diction- 
ary is  wrong."  He  considered  such  a  trifle 
not  worth  even  getting  heated  about.  He 
dismissed  it  with  a  wave  of  his  hand.  But 
there  was  a  twinkle  in  his  eye.  A  typical 


LOVE-MAKING   AS   A    FINE   ART  8 1 

man,  you  see,  was  my  grandfather.  And, 
in  consequence,  a  great  many  other  people 
besides  himself  believed  in  him. 

But  to  return.  Know,  first  of  all,  that  you 
cannot  cover  me  with  confusion  by  pointing 
to  your  wives  to  prove  that  you  have  been 
successful  lovers.  I  never  said  you  could 
not  get  married.  There  is  nothing  intricate 
about  that.  Anybody  can  marry. 

Nor  am  I  to  be  daunted  by  the  fact  that 
you  have  been  so  good  a  lover  as  to  make 
your  wife  happy.  You  may  not  be  consid- 
ered a  perfect  lover  even  if  you  have  com- 
passed that  very  laudable  end.  In  fact,  the 
very  ones  I  mean  are  the  apparently  suc- 
cessful lovers  with  happy  or  contented  wives. 

No  shadow  of  a  doubt  as  to  your  success 
as  lovers  has  ever  crossed  your  dear  old 
satisfied  minds.  To  you  I  am  alluding — 
to  the  very  ones  who  never  gave  the  sub- 
ject a  thought  before.  Wake  up,  now,  and 
listen.  Your  wives  have  thought  about  it 
enough,  even  if  you  have  not. 

Remember  then  that  I  am  only  trying  to 
tell  you,  not  why  men  fail  as  lovers,  but  how 
they  fail — in  how  much  you  fail. 


82  LOVE-MAKING   AS    A    FINE   ART 

Leave  out  all  flirting,  all  precarious  en- 
gagements, all  unhappy  marriages,  and  pre- 
suppose a  sweet,  lovable  woman,  contented- 
ly married  to  a  real  man — a  man  who  truly 
loves,  even  if  he  has  not  completely  mas- 
tered the  gentle  art  of  love-making.  No 
skeleton  in  the  closet ;  no  wishing  the  mar- 
riage undone  ;  with  no  eternal  fitnesses  of 
things  to  make  the  gods  envious ;  no  great 
joys  of  having  met  each  other's  star-soul ; 
with  plenty  of  little  every-day  rubs,  either  in 
the  shape  of  hateful  little  economies  in  the 
choice  of  opera-seats  and  cab-hire,  or  petty 
illnesses  and  nerves.  Just  a  nice,  ordinary, 
pleasant  marriage,  with  only  love  to  keep 
the  machinery  from  squeaking,  and  no  moral 
obligation  on  the  man's  part  to  see  that  the 
supply  of  love  does  not  run  short.  A  great 
many  men  can  stand  a  squeak  constantly. 
But  women  have  nerves,  and  will  go  to  any 
trouble  to  remove  one  which  their  husbands 
never  hear. 

You  have  worked  early  and  late  to  buy 
your  wife  even  more  luxuries  than  you  really 
could  afford.  But  you  love  her  so  much 
that  it  was  your  greatest  pleasure  to  heap 


LOVE-MAKING   AS   A    FINE   ART  83 

good  things  upon  her.  And  very  nice  of 
you  it  is.  You  are  a  dear,  good  man  to  do 
it,  and  I  honor  you  for  it.  Her  physical 
needs  are  abundantly  supplied.  Indeed, 
you  are  so  good  a  lover  that  you  remember 
your  courting-days  enough  to  send  her  flow- 
ers on  her  birthdays  and  Easter.  So  her 
sentimental  needs,  represented  by  flowers, 
are  supplied. 

There  remain  but  two  needs  more.  Those 
oi  her  mind  and  heart. 

It  is  too  delicate  a  subject  to  discuss 
whether  you  are  clever  enough  for  her. 
Very  likely  you  are.  If  not,  she  ought  to 
have  attended  to  that  before  she  married 
you,  because  that  is  one  of  the  few  things 
that  you  really  can  know  something  about 
during  an  engagement — if  you  are  not  too 
much  in  love  to  have  any  sense  left  at  all. 
Therefore  again  I  take  for  granted  that  you 
and  she  are  congenial.  If  she  is  devotedly 
fond  of  music,  you  do  not  hate  it  so  that  you 
cannot  occasionally  go  with  her  in  the  even- 
ing to  the  opera,  with  abundant  props  in  the 
shape  of  tickets  for  the  matinee,  to  which 
you  generously  bid  her  to  "  take  one  of  the 


84  LOVE-MAKING    AS    A    FINE    ART 

girls."  If  she  loves  books,  you  like  to  hear 
her  talk  about  them,  because  she  does  it  so 
well,  and  because  she  knows  the  ins  and 
outs  of  your  mind  so  thoroughly  that  in  ten 
minutes  she  can  give  you  the  plot,  and  half 
an  hour's  reading  aloud  of  striking  passages 
will  give  you  so  excellent  an  idea  of  the 
style  that  you  can  talk  about  it  to-morrow 
more  intelligently  than  some  bachelors  who 
have  really  read  it  by  themselves  most  con- 
scientiously. That  is  because  you  are  clever; 
because  your  wife  is  more  clever.  You  have 
a  brain,  and  your  wife  photographs  her  per- 
sonality and  her  subject  upon  it,  because 
she  understands  you  and  has  studied  you, 
and  has  a  pride  that  you  shall  appear  to 
advantage  among  her  friends  and  not  de- 
generate into  a  mere  business  machine,  as 
too  many  men  do.  I  suppose  it  never  oc- 
curred to  you  to  try  to  do  a  similar  thing 
for  her.  You  could,  if  you  wanted  to.  But 
it  is  a  good  deal  of  trouble,  and  you  are 
generally  tired.  But  what  do  you  suppose 
would  happen  if  you  should  exhibit  the 
same  eagerness  that  she  does  to  keep  the 
flame  of  love  alive,  so  that  your  marriage 


LOVE-MAKING    AS    A    FINE   ART  85 

should  not  sink  to  the  dead  commonplace 
level  of  all  the  other  marriages  you  know? 
Suppose,  even  after  you  have  caught  the 
car,  that  you  occasionally  got  off  and  ran 
beside  it  a  while,  just  for  healthful  exercise, 
and  to  keep  yourself  from  growing  ordinary? 

Suppose  you  occasionally  hunted  out  a 
new  book,  and  marked  it,  and  brought  it 
home  to  read  to  her,  not  because  you  think 
she  wouldn't  have  got  it  without  you,  but 
just  to  show  her  that  you  are  trying  to  pull 
evenly,  and  that  you  wanted  to  do  some- 
thing extra  charming  for  her  in  her  line, 
and  to  prove  that  you  have  a  conscience 
about  keeping  this  precious,  evanescent, 
but  carelessly  treated  love  at  a  point 
where  it  is  still  a  joy.  It  is  a  sad  thing 
to  get  so  used  to  a  beautiful  exception 
like  love  that  you  never  think  of  it  as 
marvellous. 

A  man  never  seems  to  be  able  to  under- 
stand that,  in  order  to  obtain  the  supremest 
pleasure  from  an  act  of  thoughtful  ness  to 
his  wife,  he  must  be  wholly  unselfish  and 
give  it  to  her,  in  her  line,  and  the  way 
she  wants  it — and  the  way  he  knows  she 


86  LOVE-MAKING   AS   A    FINE   ART 

wants  it,  if  he  would  only  stop  to  think. 
I  know  a  man  who  hates  to  go  out  in 
the  evening,  but  who  occasionally,  in  or- 
der to  do  something  particularly  sweet  and 
unselfish  to  please,  his  wife,  takes  her  to 
the  theatre.  She  loves  fine  plays,  trag- 
edy, high-grade  comedy.  But  he  takes  her 
to  the  minstrels,  because  that  is  the  only 
thing  he  can  stand,  and  for  two  weeks  after- 
wards he  keeps  saying  to  her,  "  Didn't  I 
take  you  to  the  theatre  the  other  night, 
honey?  Don't  I  sometimes  sacrifice  myself 
for  your  pleasure  ?"  And  she  goes  and 
kisses  him  and  says  yes,  and  tries  not  to 
think  that  his  selfishness  more  than  out- 
weighs his  unselfishness.  Women  have 
more  conscience  about  deceiving  themselves 
into  staying  in  love  than  men  have. 

But  even  yet,  suppose  you  are  not  that 
kind  of  a  man,  we  have  not  got  to  the  point 
of  the  subject  yet.  Our  way  lies  through 
the  head  to  the  heart.  And  the  man  who  is 
scrupulously  careful  about  acts  has  yet  to 
watch  at  once  the  greatest  joy,  the  greatest 
grief,  the  supremest  healing  of  even  deliber- 
ate wounds — words.  It  is  a  question  with 


LOVE-MAKING   AS   A    FINE   ART  87 

me  whether  a  woman  ever  knows  all  the 
joys  of  love-making  who  has  one  of  those 
dumb,  silent  husbands,  who  doubtless  adores 
her,  but  is  able  to  express  it  only  in  deeds. 
It  requires  an  act  of  the  will  to  remember 
that  his  getting  down-town  at  seven  o'clock 
every  morning  is  all  done  for  you,  when  he 
has  not  been  able  to  tell  you  in  words  that 
he  loves  you.  It  is  hard  to  keep  thinking 
that  he  looked  at  you  last  night  as  if  he 
thought  you  were  pretty,  when  he  did  not 
say  so.  It  is  hard  to  receive  a  telegram, 
when  you  are  looking  for  a  letter,  saying, 
"Have  not  had  time  to  write.  Shall  be 
home  Sunday.  Will  bring  you  something 
nice."  It  is  harder  still  to  get  a  letter  tell- 
ing about  the  weather  and  how  busy  he 
is,  when  the  same  amount  of  space,  saying 
that  he  got  to  thinking  about  you  yester- 
day when  he  saw  a  girl  on  the  street  who 
looked  like  you,  only  she  didn't  carry  her- 
self so  well  as  you  do,  and  that  he  was  a 
lucky  man  to  have  got  you  when  so  many 
other  men  wanted  you,  and  he  loved  you, 
good-bye  —  would  have  fairly  made  your 
heart  turn '  over  with  joy  and  made  you 


88  LOVE-MAKING   AS   A    FINE   ART 

kiss  the  hurried  lines  and  thrust  the  letter 
in  your  belt,  where  you  could  crackle  it  now 
and  then  just  to  make  sure  it  was  there. 

Nearly  all  nice  men  make  good  lovers  in 
deeds.  Many  fail  in  the  handling  of  words. 
Few,  indeed,  combine  the  two  and  make 
perfect  lovers. 

But  the  last  test  of  all,  and,  to  my  mind, 
the  greatest,  is  in  the  use  of  words  as  a 
balm.  Few  people,  be  they  men  or  women, 
be  they  lovers,  married,  or  only  friends,  can 
help  occasionally  hurting  each  other's  feel- 
ings. Accidents  are  continually  happening 
even  when  people  are  good-tempered.  And 
for  quick  or  evil-tempered  ones  there  is  but 
one  remedy— the  handsome,  honest  apology. 
The  most  perfect  lover  is  the  one  who  best 
understands  how  and  when  to  apologize. 

I  have  heard  men  say,  to  prove  their 
independence,  their  proud  spirit,  their  un- 
bending self-respect,  "  I  never  apologize." 
They  say  it  in  such  conscious  pride,  and  so 
honestly  expect  me  to  admire  them,  and  I 
am  so  amiable,  that  I  never  dare  remon- 
strate. I  simply  keep  out  of  their  way. 
But  I  feel  like  saying:  "  Poor,  pitiful  soul! 


LOVE-MAKING    AS   A    FINE   ART  89 

Poor,  meagre  nature !  Not  to  know  the 
gladness  of  restoring  a  smile  to  a  face  from 
which  you  have  driven  it.  Only  to  know 
the  coldness  of  a  misnamed  pride ;  never 
to  know  the  close,  warm  joy  of  humility." 

Many  people  know  nothing  about  a  real 
apology.  A  lukewarm  apology  is  more  in- 
sulting than  the  insult.  A  handsome  apol- 
ogy is  the  handsomest  thing  in  the  world— 
and  the  manliest  and  the  womanliest.  An 
apology,  like  chivalry,  is  sexless.  Perhaps 
because  it  is  a  natural  virtue  of  women,  it 
sits  manlier  upon  men  than  upon  women. 

.   .   .  "  It  becomes 
The  throned  monarch  better  than  his  crown." 

Even  as  chivalry,  being  a  natural  attribute 
of  men,  becomes  beautiful  beyond  words  to 
express  when  found  in  women. 

I  often  have  heard  men  say  they  never 
apologize.  Sometimes  I  have  heard  women. 
Pitiful,  indeed,  it  becomes  then.  A  woman 
without  religion  is  no  more  repulsive  to  me 
than  one  who  "  never  apologizes."  How  I 
pity  the  people  who  love  those  men  and 
women  who  "never  apologize." 


go 


LOVE-MAKING   AS   A    FINE   ART 


A  delicate  apology  brings  into  play  all 
the  virtues  necessary  to  a  perfect  humanity. 
The  proudest  are  generally  those  who  can 
bend  the  lowest.  It  is  not  pride  ;  it  is  a 
stupid  vanity  and  an  abnormal  self-love 
which  prevent  a  man  or  woman  from  apol- 
ogizing. An  apology  requires  a  native 
humility  of  which  only  great  souls  are 
capable.  It  requires  generosity  to  be  will- 
ing to  humble  yourself.  It  takes  faith  in 
humanity  to  think  that  your  apology  will 
be  accepted.  You  must  have  a  sense  of 
justice  to  believe  that  you  owe  it.  It  re- 
quires sincerity  to  make  it  sound  honest, 
and  tact  to  do  it  at  the  right  time.  It 
requires  patience  to  stick  to  it  until  the 
wound  has  ceased  to  bleed,  and  the  best, 
highest,  truest  type  of  love  to  make  you 
want  to  do  it. 

There  is  only  one  thing  meaner  than  a 
person  who  never  apologizes,  and  that  is  a 
person  who  will  not  accept  one. 

It  requires  a  finer  type  of  generosity  to  re- 
ceive generously  than  to  give  generously. 
And  a  nature  is  more  divine  which  can  for- 
give honestly  and  quickly  than  one  which 


LOVE-MAKING   AS   A    FINE   ART  gi 

can  only  apologize  and  is  not  capable  of  a 
swift  forgiveness.  But  it  is  a  wise  dispensa- 
tion of  Providence  that  the  two  are  twin 
virtues,  and  are  generally  to  be  met  with  in 
the  same  broad  and  beautiful  nature. 

Used  against  a  high  soul,  there  is  no 
surer  method  of  humiliation  than  an  apol- 
ogy. In  one  skilled  at  reading  human  nat- 
ure, an  apology  becomes  a  weapon.  When 
you  are  not  the  one  who  should  apologize 
first,  when  you  are  less  to  blame  than  he, 
be  you  the  one  to  apologize  first,  and  see 
how  quickly  his  noble  nature  will  abase  it- 
self, and  rush  to  meet  you,  and  how  sure 
and  glorious  and  complete  the  reconcilia- 
tion will  be  ! 

I  never  can  blame  people  who  refuse  to 
accept  an  apology  in  the  shape  of  flowers 
when  the  wound  has  been  given  in  words. 
The  whole  of  Europe  would  not  compen- 
sate some  women  for  a  hurt,  when  the  hurt 
had  been  distinctly  worded  and  the  apology 
came  in  the  shape  of  a  dumb,  voiceless 
present. 

From  the  standpoint  of  observation  and 
inexperience,  I  should  say  that  the  supremest 


g2  LOVE-MAKING   AS   A    FINE   ART 

lack  of  men  as  lovers  is  the  inability  to  say, 
"  I  am  sorry,  dear ;  forgive  me."  And  to 
keep  on  saying  it  until  the  hurt  is  entirely 
gone.  You  gave  her  the  deep  wound.  Be 
manly  enough  to  stay  by  it  until  it  has 
healed.  Men  will  go  to  any  trouble,  any  ex- 
pense, any  personal  inconvenience,  to  heal 
it  without  the  simple  use  of  those  simple 
words.  A  man  thinks  if  a  woman  begins  to 
smile  at  him  again  after  a  hurt,  for  which 
he  has  not  yet  apologized,  has  commenced 
to  grow  dull,  that  the  worst  is  over,  and  that, 
if  he  keeps  away  from  the  dangerous  sub- 
ject, he  has  done  his  duty.  Besides,  hasn't 
he  given  her  a  piano  to  pay  for  it?  But 
that  same  man  would  call  another  man  a 
brute  who  insisted  upon  healing  up  a  finger 
with  the  splinter  still  in  it,  so  that  an  acci- 
dental pressure  would  always  cause  pain. 

If  you  do  not  believe  this,  what  do  you 
suppose  the  result  would  be  if  you  should 
apologize  to  your  wife  for  something  you 
said  last  year.  If  you  think  she  has  forgot- 
ten, because  she  never  speaks  of  it,  just  try 
it  once. 

I  honestly  believe  that  the  simple  phrase, 


LOVE-MAKING    AS    A    FINE   ART  93 

"  I  am  sorry,  dear ;  forgive  me,"  has  done 
more  to  hold  brothers  in  the  home,  to  en- 
dear sisters  to  each  other,  to  comfort  moth- 
ers and  fathers,  to  tie  friends  together,  to 
placate  lovers;  that  more  marriages  have 
taken  place  because  of  them,  and  more  have 
held  together  on  account  of  them ;  that  more 
love  of  all  kinds  has  been  engendered  by 
them  than  by  any  other  words  in  the  Eng- 
lish language. 


GIRLS  AND  OTHER  GIRLS 

"  Thou  art  so  very  sweet  and  fair, 

With  such  a  heaven  in  thine  eyes, 
It  almost  seems  an  over-care 
To  ask  thee  to  be  good  or  wise, 

"  As  if  a  little  bird  were  blamed 

Because  its  song  unthinking  flows  ; 
As  if  a  rose  should  be  ashamed 
Of  being  nothing  but  a  rose." 


'//  is  so  hard  for  Shrewdness  to  admit 
Folly  means  no  harm  when  she  calls  black 
white" 


GIRLS  AND  OTHER  GIRLS 


PEOPLE  who  criticise  the  grammar  of 
those  young  girls  who  say  "  I  don't  think," 
should  have  a  care.  For  it  is  more  true 
than  incorrect.  Most  girls  don't  think. 

But  there  are  two  kinds  of  girls — girls 
under  twenty-five  and  others. 

Of  course,  although  you  may  not  know 
it,  age  has  no  more  to  do  with  that  state- 
ment than  it  had  to  do  with  the  one  when  I 
hinted  that  man  reached  the  ripe  state  of 
perfection  at  the  mystic  age  of  thirty-five. 
These  are  but  approximate  figures,  and  are 
only  for  use  in  general  practice.  They  have 
no  bearing  on  specific  cases,  when  it  is  al- 
ways best  to  call  in  a  specialist. 

I  know  many  girls  who  are  still  seeing 
and  hearing  unintelligently,  and  have  not 
begun  to  assimilate  knowledge,  even  at 

7 


98  GIRLS   AND   OTHER   GIRLS 

twenty-five.  I  know  others  of  twenty,  who 
have  assimilated  so  well  that  they  will 
never  be  under  twenty-five.  But  it  is  a 
literal  fact,  and  this  statement  I  am  willing 
to  live  up  to,  that  the  majority  of  girls 
must  have  lived  through  their  first  youth 
before  a  thinking  person  can  take  any  com- 
fort with  them. 

I  am  sure  Samuel  Johnson  had  this  in 
mind  when  he  said:  " 'Tis  a  terrible  thing 
that  we  cannot  wish  young  ladies  well  with- 
out wishing  them  to  become  old  women." 
Or  possibly  the  exclamation  was  wrung  from 
him  after  an  attempt  to  talk  to  one  of  them. 
Many  brave  men,  who  would  stop  a  run- 
away horse,  or  who  would  dare  to  look  for 
burglars  under  the  bed,  quail  utterly  before 
the  prospect  of  talking  to  a  young  girl  who 
frankly  says,  "I  don't  think." 

How  can  those  girls,  who  give  evidence 
of  no  more  thought  than  is  evinced  by  their 
namby-pamby  chatter,  call  their  existence 
living?  They  mistake  pertness  for  wit; 
audacity  for  cleverness ;  disrespect  to  old 
age  for  independence ;  and  general  bad  man- 
ners for  individuality.  Has  nobody  ever 


GIRLS    AND    OTHER   GIRLS  99 

trained  these  girls  to  think?  What  kind  of 
schools  do  they  attend  ?  Who  has  spoiled 
them  by  flattery,  until  they  are  little  pea- 
cocks to  whom  a  mirror  is  an  irresistible 
temptation  ? 

Why  do  unthinking  parents  supply  them 
with  money,  and  never  ask  how  they  spend 
it?  How  does  it  come  that  if  you  want  to 
find  great  numbers  of  them  together  you 
go  to  Huyler's  instead  of  to  Brentano's? 
What  kind  of  women  will  these  girls  make, 
to  whom  a  wrinkle  in  their  waist  is  of  more 
moment  than  their  soul's  salvation  ? 

I  often  wonder  what  kind  of  mothers 
these  girls  have.  Surely  there  can  be  no 
family  conversation  where  they  live.  Surely 
they  never  hear  the  great  questions  of  the 
day  discussed  at  the  dinner-table.  From 
the  number  of  hours  they  spend  upon  the 
street,  I  often  am  tempted  to  say,  what  the 
poor,  tired  woman,  who  stood  for  miles  in 
the  street-car,  said  to  her  fellow-passengers, 
"  Have  none  of  yez  homes  ?" 

Poor,  empty-pated  little  creatures !  Poor 
lovely  little  clothes-racks,  who  occasionally 
organize  a  concert  for  newsboys  whose 


100  GIRLS    AND   OTHER   GIRLS 

lives  are  busier  and  more  useful  than  their 
own  !  A  Street  Waifs'  Benefit  for  Street 
Waifs  ! 

If  the  crude  young  person  who  stands 
with  such  eager  feet  where  the  brook  and 
river  meet  that  she  has  wetted  her  pretty 
shoon  in  her  haste  to  be  in  the  society  of 
men  could  only  have  the  wit  to  sing : 

"O  \vad  some  power  the  giftie  gie  us, 
To  see  oursels  as  others  see  us," 

she  might  discover  strange  points  of  resem- 
blance between  herself  and  a  very  young 
baby. 

In  the  earliest  days  of  earthly  existence 
a  baby  is  in  a  jelly-fish  state,  from  which 
no  one  can  say  what  he  will  emerge.  His 
brain  is  a  sponge.  He  receives  everything 
and  gives  nothing.  He  is  pretty  to  look 
at,  and  seems  made  for  nothing  but  love. 
He  coos  and  gurgles,  he  seldom  does  any- 
thing more  intelligent  than  to  smile,  and 
he  prefers  men  to  women. 

The  greatest  fault  that  thinking  men  find 
with  this  sort  of  girl  is,  that  she  becomes 
sillier  every  day  that  she  lives.  I  have 


GIRLS    AND   OTHER   GIRLS  ioi 

heard  women  complain  of  the  degeneracy 
of  the  boys  who  seek  their  daughters  in 
marriage ;  but  when  I  look  at  the  many 
girls  of  this  type  I  am  tempted  to  say, 
"Well,  madam,  who  but  a  degenerate  would 
care  to  marry  your  daughter  ?" 

Men  claim  that  it  is  difficult  to  maintain 
their  ideals  in  regard  to  women,  in  the  face 
of  such  selfishness,  crudeness,  bad  manners, 
and  jealousies  as  exist  between  young  girls 
of  this  sort.  Of  course,  they  who  have  be- 
come belles  by  reason  of  their  lovely  faces 
never  know  that  the  thinking  class  of  young 
men  criticise  them  adversely,  and  they  would 
not  care  if  they  did.  There  are  still  many 
men  who  do  admire  and  who  will  fall  in 
love  with  them,  and  the  others  are  not 
missed. 

We  must  not  blame  them  too  severely  for 
rejoicing  in  their  loveliness.  It  might  be  a 
hard  struggle  for  the  rest  of  us  not  to  do 
the  same  if  we  had  their  beauty. 

Men  often  wonder  why  girls'  friendships 
are  so  hollow.  They  wonder  why  we  are 
so  ungenerous  to  each  other.  "  So  hate- 
ful," we  call  it.  Hateful  is  not  a  man's 


102  GIRLS   AND   OTHER   GIRLS 

word.  It  is  a  woman's  ;  and  trust  a  woman 
to  know  exactly  what  it  means. 

Well,  the  truth  of  it  is  that  men  are  at 
the  bottom  of  a  great  deal  of  it.  Girls  sel- 
dom quarrel  with  each  other  except  over 
some  man,  and,  while  they  intend  to  be  loyal 
to  each  other,  they  cannot  seem  to  manage 
it  if  there  is  a  man  in  the  case. 

Most  girls  have  two  natures.  One  she 
shows  to  men ;  the  other  to  other  girls. 
What  we  know  of  one  is  the  way  she  droops 
and  is  so  openly  bored  by  other  girls  that 
it  is  quite  a  blow  to  our  vanity  to  be  obliged 
to  be  with  her.  We  recognize  the  other  at 
the  approach  of  a  man,  even  if  we  cannot 
see  him,  by  the  changes  in  the  girl's  face. 
She  straightens  herself,  puts  a  hand  on 
each  side  of  her  waist,  and  pushes  her  belt 
down  lower,  moistens  her  lips,  a  sparkle 
comes  into  her  eyes,  she  touches  her  back 
hair,  and  runs  a  finger  under  the  edge  of  her 
veil.  Then  she  smiles — such  a  smile  as  the 
other  girls  have  not  been  able  to  win  from 
her  in  three  hours. 

These  girls  are  very  clever  sometimes — 
even  these  little,  soft,  kitteny  girls,  who  do 


GIRLS    AND   OTHER    GIRLS  103 

not  know  anything  about  books,  who  never 
read,  who  never  study,  and  are  popularly 
called  empty-headed  even  by  the  very  men 
who  make  love  to  them.  These  girls  are 
keen  beyond  words  to  express  in  their 
intuitive  knowledge  of  human  nature  and 
the  differentiation  between  man  nature  and 
woman  nature.  They  are  capable  of  using 
the  outward  and  apparent  motives  of  hu- 
manity for  an  effect,  and  secretly  of  plying 
the  subtlest  and  most  occult. 

It  is  difficult  to  designate  their  exact 
methods,  and  dangerous  to  exploit  them, 
for  you  immediately  lay  yourself  open  to  the 
suspicion  of  being  capable  of  the  same 
double-dealing  yourself,  or  of  its  being  be- 
neath your  dignity  to  accuse  any  one  of  such 
duplicity ;  and  yet  there  are  the  causes  and 
there  are  the  results.  You  can  shut  your 
eyes  to  them  if  you  wish. 

It  is  just  here  where  a  girl  of  this  kind  is 
so  uncanny.  Of  course,  for  those  of  us  who 
wish  to  take  a  lofty  view  of  love  and  lovers, 
who  wish  to  think  each  woman  sought  out 
by  a  man  for  her  beauty  and  virtues  and 
married  for  love,  it  is  very  repugnant  to 


104  GIRLS    AND    OTHER    GIRLS 

have  to  face  the  fact  that  there  are  hun- 
dreds of  sweet,  nice  girls,  of  good  family 
and  good  training,  who  regard  the  securing 
for  themselves  of  another  girl's  lover  a  per- 
fectly legitimate  operation. 

Not  infrequently  one  hears  it  said  that 
So-and-So  is  one  of  the  most  attractive  girls 
in  town,  because  she  can  cut  any  girl  out 
that  she  tries  to.  You  may  say  that  a  man 
so  easily  won  is  no  great  loss,  or  that  such 
things  may  occur  in  other  circles  of  society 
but  not  in  yours.  Possibly  they  do  not. 
One  does  not  deny  the  honor  of  honorable 
men  and  women  in  any  walk  in  life.  But 
in  polite  society,  fashionable  society,  these 
things  occur.  Oftener  in  New  York  than  in 
Boston,  and  oftener  in  London  and  Paris 
than  in  New  York.  Indeed,  we  may  sneer, 
as  we  often  do,  at  the  primitive  customs 
of  the  lowly,  and  at  their  absurd  phrase  of 
"keeping  company."  It  makes  a  delight- 
ful jest.  But  beneath  it  is  a  greater  regard 
for  the  rights  of  a  man  or  woman  in  love 
than  one  is  apt  to  find  higher  in  the  social 
scale. 

With   them,    to  select  one  another  "to 


GIRLS   AND   OTHER    GIRLS  105 

keep  company,"  is  like  an  offer  of  marriage. 
To  "keep  steady  company"  is  the  formal 
announcement  of  an  engagement,  which  is 
a  potential  marriage.  It  is  the  first  step 
towards  matrimony,  and  is  almost  as  sacred 
and  final. 

With  their  more  fortunate  and  envied 
sisters  in  the  smart  set,  an  engagement  is 
the  loosest  kind  of  a  bond,  and  neither 
man  nor  woman  is  safe  from  the  wooing  of 
other  men  and  women  until  the  marriage 
vows  have  been  pronounced,  and,  if  your 
society  is  very  fashionable,  not  even  then. 

So  that  this  society  of  which  I  speak 
would  undeniably  be  called  "good." 

Now,  of  course,  all  women  desire  to  be 
loved.  She  is  a  very  queer  woman  who 
would  deny  that  proposition  if  asked  by  the 
right  person,  and  I  hope  he  would  have 
sense  enough  not  to  believe  her  if  she  did. 
I  do  not  object  to  a  girl  making  herself  at- 
tractive to  men  in  a  modest  and  maidenly 
way.  On  the  contrary,  I  heartily  approve 
of  it.  But  I  would  have  her  select  a  man 
who  belonged  to  no  other  girl,  and  to 
know  that  nothing  but  misery  can  result 


106  GIRLS   AND   OTHER   GIRLS 

from  the  taking  of  a  lover  away  from  her 
friend. 

It  is  the  fashion  for  women  to  deny  that 
this  is  done.  I  never  could  see  why.  But 
possibly  they  deny  it  because  they  are 
afraid,  if  they  discuss  it,  that  people  will 
think  some  girl  has  lured  a  lover  or  two 
away  from  them. 

People  who  have  witnessed  the  outward 
results  of  this  phenomenon  also  deny  the 
true  cause,  on  the  ground  that  the  robber 
girl  was  not  clever  enough  to  have  done  it. 
That  she  simply  was  more  to  the  man's 
taste  than  the  first  girl,  and  so  it  was  all 
the  fault  of  the  man. 

Of  course,  I  cannot  deny  the  fickleness  of 
man.  But  I  do  say  that  the  girl  hardly 
lives,  no  matter  how  pretty  she  is,  who  has 
not  the  wit  to  get  another  girl's  lover  if  she 
wants  him.  It  makes  no  difference  how 
young  she  is,  she  never  makes  the  mistake 
of  disparaging  the  first  girl.  No  woman  of 
the  world  is  less  liable  to  such  an  error  than  a 
girl  who  deliberately  intends  to  get  another 
girl's  lover. 

She   begins  by  gaining  her   confidence. 


GIRLS   AND    OTHER    GIRLS  107 

Very  likely  she  manages  to  stay  all  night 
with  her.  (That  is  the  time  when  you  tell 
everything  you  know,  just  because  it  is  dark, 
and  then  spend  the  rest  of  your  life  wishing 
you  hadn't.) 

Then,  when  she  has  the  points  of  the 
compass,  so  to  speak,  she  says  she  will  help 
her  dear  friend,  and  the  dear  friend,  not  be- 
ing clever  (or  she  wouldn't  have  confided), 
thinks  she  is  the  loveliest  girl  in  the  world, 
and,  after  promising  to  send  her  lover  to 
call  in  order  to  be  "  helped,"  she  calmly 
goes  to  sleep,  just  as  if  she  has  not  seen  the 
beginning  of  the  end. 

The  other  girl  has  observed — and  she  is, 
of  course,  pretty  and  attractive.  Girls  who 
do  not  know  anything  and  who  never  study 
are  always  pretty.  It  is  only  the  plain  girl 
who  is  obliged  to  be  clever.  The  first 
time  she  sees  the  lover  of  her  dear  friend 
she  begins  to  laud  her  to  the  sky.  She  her- 
self is  looking  so  pretty,  and  she  shows  off 
in  the  most  favorable  light,  while  all  the 
time  singing  her  dear  friend's  praise  with 
such  fatal  persistency  that  she  fairly  makes 
him  sick  of  the  sound  of  her  name  and  of 


108  GIRLS    AND    OTHER    GIRLS 

her  namby-pamby  virtues.  Now  the  man 
would  hardly  be  human  if  he  did  not  tell 
this  artless  little  creature  that  he  had  had 
enough  of  her  dear  friend,  and  that  he  would 
much  prefer  to  talk  about  herself.  Pouts 
of  hurt  surprise.  She  "thought  you  were 
such  a  friend  of  hers  !"  She  "  only  wanted 
to  entertain  you  by  the  only  subject "  she 
"  thought  would  interest  you."  Presto  ! 
The  entering  wedge  !  She  knows  it,  but 
the  man  does  not.  He  has  no  idea  of  being 
disloyal  to  his  sweetheart,  but  he  is  a  lost 
man  nevertheless — lost  to  the  first  girl  and 
won  by  the  second.  Won  in  a  perfectly 
harmless  and  legitimate  way  too.  Won 
while  doing  her  duty,  keeping  her  promise, 
helping  her  friend.  Her  conscience  acquits 
her.  She  has  only  observed  and  made  use 
of  her  cleverness  to  know  that  too  smooth 
and  easy  a  course  to  true  love  generally 
gives  him  to  the  other  girl. 

But  in  reality  she  has  stolen  him — she  has 
committed  a  real  theft.  And,  personally, 
I  should  prefer  to  know  her  had  she  stolen 
money.  You  can  jail  a  man  who  steals 
your  watch,  but  the  girl  who  steals  a  man's 


GIRLS   AND   OTHER    GIRLS 


IOQ 


heart  away  from  his  sweetheart  walks  free, 
and  uncondemned  even — to  their  shame  be 
it  spoken — by  those  who  know  what  she 
has  done. 

Nobody  dares  condemn  her  —  even  the 
friends  of  the  robbed  girl,  for  that  presup- 
poses some  lack  in  her  charm,  and  gives 
publicity  to  her  loss.  The  wronged  girl, 
because  of  her  pride  and  conventionality 
and  civilization,  makes  no  outcry.  A  bar- 
barian in  her  place  would  have  fallen  on 
the  robber  girl  in  a  fury  and  scratched  her 
eyes  out.  Sometimes  I  am  sorry  that  our 
barbaric  days  are  over. 

Some  of  the  greatest  tragedies  in  life  have 
come  from  this  disloyalty  among  girls  in 
their  relations  with  each  other. 

I  have  no  patience  with  those  people  who 
fall  in  love  with  forbidden  property  and 
give  as  their  excuse,  "  I  couldn't  help  it." 
Such  culpable  weakness  is  more  dangerous 
to  society  than  real  wickedness. 

Love  is  not  a  matter  of  infatuation.  It 
is  not  the  temptation  which  is  wrong.  It 
is  the  deliberate  following  it  up,  simply 
because  the  temptation  is  agreeable.  Of 


HO  GIRLS   AND   OTHER   GIRLS 

course,  it  is  agreeable !  You  are  not  often 
irresistibly  tempted  to  go  and  have  your 
teeth  filled ! 

Men  never  will  have  done  with  their  strict- 
ures on  girls  until  girls  achieve  two  things. 
One  is  to  observe  more  honor  in  their  rela- 
tions with  each  other,  and  the  other  is  to 
learn  to  think. 


ON  THE  SUBJECT  OF  HUSBANDS 
"All  that  I  am,  my  mother  made  me" 


ON  THE  SUBJECT  OF   HUSBANDS 


PERHAPS  you  think  that  girls  do  not  know 
enough  about  other  girls'  husbands  to  dis- 
cuss them  with  any  profit.  But  if  there  has 
been  a  dinner  or  theatre  party  within  our 
memory  where  the  married  girls  did  not  take 
the  bachelors  and  leave  their  husbands  for 
us,  we  would  just  like  to  know  when  it  was, 
that's  all. 

I  dare  say  it  never  occurVed  to  these  wives 
what  an  opportunity  this  custom  gives  us  to 
study  social  problems  at  close  range.  We 
girls  are  supposed  to  be  blind  and  deaf  and 
dumb ;  but  we  are  none  of  the  three.  We 
try  to  see  all  there  is  to  see,  and  hear  all 
there  is  to  hear,  and  then,  when  we  get  to- 
gether, we  wouldn't  be  human  if  we  didn't 
talk  it  over  and  tell  each  other  how  infinite- 
ly better  we  could  manage  Jessie's  husband 


114         ON   THE   SUBJECT   OF   HUSBANDS 

than  she  does,  and  that  it  seems  a  pity  that 
Carrie  doesn't  understand  George. 

I  suppose  it  would  be  rather  handsome  of 
us  always  to  pretend  that  we  did  not  hear  the 
covert  rebuke  or  the  open  sarcasm  bandied 
about  between  these  husbands  and  wives. 
On  the  whole,  I  think  it  would  be  chivalrous 
for  us  to  be  utterly  oblivious,  and  talk  about 
the  weather,  if  anybody  asked  us  if  we  knew 
that  Mary  never  could  spend  a  cent  without 
having  John  ask  her  what  she  did  with  it. 

That  is  the  way  men  do  when  they  do  not 
wish  to  tell  on  each  other.  I  think  men  are 
fine  in  that  way.  We  girls  all  think  so,  only 
we  seldom  have  the  moral  courage  to  emu- 
late their  admirable  example.  We  are  so 
fond  of  "  talking  things  over."  And  if  the 
married  women  do  not  wish  us  to  talk  their 
husbands  over,  just  let  them  give  us  our  own 
rightful  property,  the  bachelors,  and  \ve  will 
never  utter  another  cheep. 

However,  I  would  not  give  up  my  small 
experience  with  other  girls'  husbands  for  a 
great  deal.  It  has  convinced  me  of  some- 
thing of  which  I  always  have  been  reasona- 
bly sure,  and  that  is  that  American  men 


ON   THE   SUBJECT   OF    HUSBANDS         115 

make  the  best  husbands  in  the  world,  and 
that  women  who  cannot  get  along  with 
Americans,  and  who  think  men  of  another 
race,  who  have  more  polish,  more  finesse, 
more  veneer,  would  suit,  them  better,  could 
not  manage  to  live  happily  with  the  Angel 
Gabriel. 

Dear  me  !  If  these  dissatisfied  American 
wives  could  only  realize  that  an  all -wise 
Providence  had,  in  the  American  man,  given 
us  the  best  article  in  the  market,  and  that 
when  we  rebel  at  our  lot  we  are  simply 
proving  that  we  do  not  deserve  our  good 
fortune,  they  would  never  even  discuss  the 
subject  of  having  men  of  any  other  nation- 
ality. 

Of  course,  in  every  nation  there  is  a  class 
of  men  who  are  as  noble,  as  high-minded, 
as  chivalrous  as  even  the  most  captious 
American  girl  could  wish.  But  I  refer  to 
the  general  run  of  men  when  I  say  that 
there  is  something  about  men  born  outside 
of  America,  a  native  selfishness  or  callous- 
ness, a  lack  of  perception  and  appreciation 
of  the  fineness  of  womanhood,  amounting 
to  a  sort  of  mental  brutality,  which  wellnigh 


116         ON    THE   SUBJECT   OF    HUSBANDS 

unfits  them  for  close  social  contact  with  the 
super-sensitive  American  woman.  And  just 
as  surely  as  American  women  persist  in 
disregarding  this  subtle  yet  unmistakable 
truth,  just  so  surely  will  they  lay  themselves 
open  to  these  soul -bruises  from  foreign 
husbands  which  American  men,  as  a  race, 
are  incapable  of  inflicting.  I  say  they  are 
incapable  of  inflicting  them,  because  Amer- 
ican men,  in  the  face  of  everything  said  and 
written  to  the  contrary,  are,  in  regard  to 
women,  the  finest-grained  race  of  men  in  the 
world. 

Now  in  this  generalizing,  I  beg  that  you 
will  not  accuse  me  of  asserting  that  these 
strictures  are  true  of  every  man  who  is  not 
an  American,  or  that  all  American  men  are 
perfect.  But  I  do  wish  to  state  clearly  and 
frankly  my  admiration  for  American  men 
as  a  race.  When  an  American  man  is  a 
gentleman,  he  is  to  my  mind  the  most  per- 
fect gentleman  that  any  race  can  produce, 
because  his  good  manners  spring  from  his 
heart,  and  there  are  a  few  of  us  old-fash- 
ioned enough  to  plead  that  politeness  should 
go  deeper  than  the  skin. 


ON    THE    SUBJECT   OF    HUSBANDS          117 

Now  if  the  assertion  is  made  that  the 
American  man  makes  the  best  husband  in 
the  world,  let  him  not  think  that  there  is 
no  room  for  improvement,  for  with  him  it 
is  much  the  same  as  it  is  with  the  wild 
strawberry.  At  first  blush  one  would  say 
that  there  could  be  no  more  delicious 
flavor  than  that  of  the  wild  strawberry. 
Yet  everybody  knows  what  the  skilled  gar- 
deners have  made  of  it  in  the  form  of  the 
cultivated  fruit.  Nevertheless,  the  crude  ar- 
ticle, found  growing  wild  upon  its  native 
heath,  is  much  to  be  preferred  to  the  can- 
died ginger  of  other  nations. 

After  admitting  that  the  wild  strawberry 
is  capable  of  cultivation,  and  even  attaining, 
under  skilful  care,  the  highest  type  of  per- 
fection, let  no  one  make  the  mistake  of 
thinking  that  the  time  for  such  improve- 
ment is  after  they  have  been  grown  and 
placed  upon  the  market.  If  they  are  found 
to  be  knotty,  half  green,  or  in  a  state  of  de- 
cadence, and  you  are  bound  to  buy  straw- 
berries, you  can  take  them,  and,  by  your  na- 
tive woman's  wit,  you  can  dress  them  into  a 
state  of  palatableness,  even  if  you  have  to 


IlS         ON   THE   SUBJECT   OF    HUSBANDS 

reduce  them  to  a  pulp  in  the  sacred  mysteries 
of  a  short-cake. 

But  in  order  to  take  all  the  comfort  which 
strawberries  are  capable  of  giving  to  man- 
kind, they  should  be  perfect  in  themselves 
when  they  come  from  the  hand  of  the  gar- 
dener— just  as  it  was  his  mother's  duty  to 
have  trained  that  husband  of  yours  before  he 
came  under  your  influence. 

It  really  is  asking  too  much  of  a  woman 
to  expect  her  to  bring  up  a  husband  and  her 
children  too.  She  vainly  imagines,  when 
she  marries  this  piece  of  perfection,  with 
whom  she  is  so  blindly  in  love,  that  he  is 
already  trained,  or,  rather,  that  he  is  the  one 
human  being  in  the  world  who  has  been 
perfect  from  infancy,  and  who  never  needed 
training.  She  never  dreams  of  the  curious 
fact  that  mothers  always  train  their  daugh- 
ters to  make  good  wives,  yet  rarely  ever 
think  of  training  their  boys  to  make  good 
husbands. 

Therefore,  unless,  like  Topsy,  they  have 
"just  growed"  good  and  kind  and  consid- 
erate, a  woman  has  a  life-work  before  her  in 
training  her  own  husband. 


ON   THE   SUBJECT   OF   HUSBANDS         119 

But  the  fact  of  the  matter  is  that  while 
we  girls  receive  specific  training,  to  the  ex- 
press end  of  making  good  wives,  the  boys 
of  the  family  receive  only  general  training 
of  chivalry  and  courtesy  towards  all  women 
— not  with  a  view  of  having  to  spend  the 
greater  part  of  their  lives  with  one  woman, 
or  the  tact  with  which  this  one  woman  must 
be  treated. 

I  wonder  what  would  happen  if  somebody 
should  open  a  Select  Kindergarten  for  Em- 
bryo Husbands  ?  Yet  we  girls  have  been 
in  a  similar  institution  for  embryo  wives 
since  childhood.  We  are  told  in  our  early 
teens:  "Well,  only  your  mother  would  bear 
that.  No  husband  would ;"  or,  "  You  will 
have  to  be  more  gentle  and  unselfish  with 
your  brother,  if  you  want  to  make  some 
man  a  good  wife." 

A  good  wife  !  It  has  a  magic  sound ! 
Of  course,  every  girl  expects  to  marry, 
and  the  shadowy  idea  of  making  a  good 
wife  to  this  mysterious  but  delightfully 
interesting  personage,  who  is  growing  up 
somewhere  in  the  world,  and  waiting  for 
her,  even  as  she  is  waiting  for  him,  makes 


120         ON    THE   SUBJECT   OF    HUSBANDS 

the  hard  task  of  self-discipline  easier,  for 
we  all  wish  to  make  "  a  good  wife." 

Nor  are  we  taught  alone  to  be  gentle  and 
sweet  and  faithful.  We  girls  have  to  learn 
that  all-potent  factor  in  a  happy  life — tact. 
We  are  early  taught  that  it  is  not  enough  to 
master  the  fundamental  principles  which 
govern  the  genus  man.  We  have  to  dis- 
cover that  each  man  must  be  treated  differ- 
ently. We  must  cater  to  individual  tastes. 
We  must  learn  individual  needs,  and  fill 
them.  In  short,  we  are  taught  to  observe 
men,  to  study  them,  and  then  to  hold  our- 
selves accordingly. 

Pray  do  not  imagine  that  all  this  is  put 
into  words,  or  that  we  have  certain  hours 
for  studying  how  to  make  good  wives,  or 
that  it  is  as  rigid  or  exhausting  as  a  broom 
drill.  It  is  the  intangible,  esoteric  phi- 
losophy which  permeates  the  households 
of  thousands  of  American  families,  where 
the  mothers  are  the  companions  and  confi- 
dantes of  the  daughters.  It  is  an  under- 
stood thing.  You  would  be  surprised  to 
know  how  young  some  girls  are  when  they 
have  thoroughly  mastered  this  wonderful 


ON   THE   SUBJECT   OF    HUSBANDS         121 

tact  with  men.  And  what  is  it  that  makes 
the  American  girl  so  dangerous  for  all  the 
other  women  in  the  world  to  compete  with? 
It  is  because  she  studies  her  man.  And 
how  did  she  learn  it  ?  By  seeing  her  moth- 
er manage  her  father — or,  perhaps, by  seeing 
how  easily  her  father  could  be  managed,  if 
her  mother  only  understood  him  better. 

There  is  a  great  deal  of  progressive 
thought  among  girls  in  this  generation. 

Why  in  the  world  mothers  train  their 
girls  and  boys  alike  up  to  a  certain  point 
in  general  courtesy  and  consideration  for 
each  other,  and  then  go  on  with  the  girls, 
teaching  them  the  gentle,  faithful  finesse 
which  every  wife  has  to  understand,  yet 
leaves  her  boy  to  "gang  his  ain  gait  "  just 
at  the  formative  period  of  his  life,  I  am  not 
able  to  say. 

If  I  could  only  hear  some  mother  say  to 
her  son,  "  Don't  let  your  slate-pencil  squeak 
so!  Try  not  to  make  distracting  noises. 
You  may  have  a  nervous  wife,  and  you 
might  just  as  well  learn  to  be  quiet.  There 
is  no  sense  in  thinking  just  because  you  are 
a  boy  that  you  can  make  unnecessary  and 


122         ON    THE   SUBJECT   OF    HUSBANDS 

superfluous  noises!"  I  think  I  should  die 
of  joy  !  Or  how  would  it  sound  to  hear  her 
say,  "  Whenever  you  come  in  and  find  your 
sister  irritable,  don't  simply  take  yourself 
out  of  her  way.  Look  around  and  do  some- 
thing kind  for  her.  Make  a  point  of  know- 
ing what  she  likes  and  of  doing  it.  Life  is 
so  much  more  monotonous  for  women  than 
for  men,  you  should  be  especially  gener- 
ous with  your  sister,  so  that  some  day  you 
will  make  some  sweet  girl  a  good  hus- 
band." 

Can't  you  just  see  what  kind  of  a  husband 
that  boy  would  make  ? 

Romance  comes  later  to  a  boy  than  to  a 
girl,  but  it  hits  him  just  as  hard  when  it  does 
come,  and  a  boy  is  quite  as  responsive  as  a 
girl  to  the  suggestion  of  a  personal  chivalry 
which  shall  prepare  him  to  be  a  better  hus- 
band to  a  shadowy  personality  which  he 
cannot  do  better  than  to  keep  in  his  mind 
and  heart. 

Why  does  a  woman,  who  finds  it  difficult, 
perhaps  even  impossible,  to  persuade  her 
husband  to  do  certain  essential  things,  never 
take  pity  on  the  poor  little  girl  across  the 


ON   THE   SUBJECT   OF   HUSBANDS         123 

street,  who,  in  ten  or  fifteen  years,  is  going 
to  marry  her  son  ? 

Take,  at  random,  the  subject  of  a  wife's 
having  an  allowance.  Thousands  of  wives 
have  it,  and  therefore  they  are  not  the  ones 
we  are  to  consider.  But  where  there  are  thou- 
sands who  possess  an  allowance  from  their 
husbands,  or  who  have  money  in  their  own 
right,  there  are  millions  who  never  have  a 
cent  they  are  not  obliged  to  ask  their  hus- 
bands for. 

There  is  no  question  of  gift  about  it.  At 
the  altar  he  endowed  her  with  all  his  world- 
ly goods,  and  he  thinks  he  has  lived  up  to 
the  letter  of  his  vow  when  he  tells  her  that 
all  he  has  is  as  much  hers  as  his.  But  un- 
less that  oft-quoted  saying  is  followed  up  by 
a  certain  sum,  no  matter  how  small,  which 
is  in  truth  her  very  own,  she  feels  that  that 
clause  in  the  marriage  service  might  as  well 
be  stricken  out. 

When  wives  as  universally  share  in  add- 
ing to  the  general  prosperity  of  the  home — 
by  managing  the  house,  keeping  their  hus- 
band's clothes  in  order,  and  caring  for  the 
children — as  men  always  admit  is  the  case, 


124         ON   THE   SUBJECT   OF    HUSBANDS 

wives  are  actually  adding  dollars  to  their 
husband's  income.  Then  ought  not  a  man 
to  divide  that  same  income  with  her  in  the 
form  of  an  allowance,  for  which,  if  only  to 
add  to  her  self-respect,  he  has  no  more  right 
to  call  her  to  account  than  she  has  to  insist 
on  seeing  a  list  of  his  expenditures? 

I  have  nothing  to  say  about  extrava- 
gant or  untrustworthy  wives,  who  do  not 
come  into  the  subject  at  all.  I  am  only 
referring  to  the  magnificent  multitude  of 
good,  careful,  thrifty,  typical  American  wives, 
whose  sole  aim  in  life  is  to  make  a  hap- 
py home  for  husband  and  children.  Nor 
am  I  denying  that  these  women  have  all 
their  wishes  granted,  and  are  allowed  to 
spend  their  husbands'  money  with  reason- 
able freedom,  provided  they  account  for  it 
afterwards.  I  am  only  asserting  that  every 
married  woman,  from  the  farmer's  wife  to 
that  of  the  bank  president,  should  have 
some  money  regularly  which  is  sacredly  her 
own. 

Perhaps  men  think  I  am  exaggerating 
the  evil.  Perhaps  they  do  not  know  that 
the  only  advice  married  women  give  to 


ON   THE   SUBJECT   OF    HUSBANDS          125 

engaged  girls  which  never  varies  is:  "Be 
sure  you  ask  for  an  allowance  from  the 
first,  because,  if  you  don't,  you  may  never 
get  it." 

I  suppose  that  the  majority  of  men  do 
not  know  that  their  wives  hate  to  ask  them 
for  money.  Of  course  it  does  not  seem  so 
terrible  to  those  of  us  whose  fathers  occa- 
sionally want  to  keep  back  enough  money  to 
buy  coal  when  our  daughterly  demands  get 
refused.  But  it  never  occurs  to  us  that  a 
girl's  lover-husband,  this  courteous  stranger 
whom  she  has  loved  and  married,  would 
ever  forget  his  theatre  and  American- 
Beauty  days  sufficiently  to  say:  "What 
did  you  do  with  that  dollar  I  gave  you 
yesterday?" 

Now,  frankly  speaking,  it  never  occurs  to 
unmarried  girls  that  the  honeymoon  can 
ever  wear  off.  We  look  upon  husbands  as 
only  married  sweethearts.  We  sort  of  half- 
way believe  them — at  least  we  used  to,  be- 
fore we  observed  other  girls'  husbands — 
when  they  tell  us  that  they  long  for  the  time 
when  they  can  pay  our  bills  and  buy  clothes 
for  us.  We  never  thought,  until  we  were 


126         ON    THE   SUBJECT   OF    HUSBANDS 

told,  that  any  little  generous  arrangement, 
which  we  expected  to  last,  must  be  fixed 
during  the  first  few  weeks  of  marriage.  I 
dare  say  most  of  us  had  planned  to  say,  in 
answer  to  the  money  question,  "  Just  as 
you  like,  dear.  I'd  rather  have  you  man- 
age such  matters  for  me.  You  know  so 
much  more  about  them  than  I  do."  It  is  a 
horrible  shock,  from  a  sentimental  point  of 
view,  to  be  told  to  say,  "  I'll  take  an  al- 
lowance, please,"  and  then,  if  two  amounts 
are  mentioned,  to  grab  for  the  biggest. 
Oh,  it  is  a  shame  !  It  is  a  shame  to  be 
told  that  we  shall  be  sorry  if  we  don't,  and 
to  know  that  we  shall  have  no  opportunity 
to  show  how  unselfish  and  trusting  we  are. 

It  is  all  your  fault,  you  men,  that  you  do 
not  think  of  these  things  more.  You  might 
stop  a  moment  to  consider  that  it  is  rather 
a  delicate  matter  for  a  woman  to  ask  money 
of  a  man.  If  your  wife  is  like  most  wives, 
she  is  doing  as  much  to  help  you  make 
your  money  as  you  are.  She  is  keeping 
you  well  and  happy  and  your  home  beauti- 
ful. You  could  not  keep  your  mind  on 
business  an  hour  if  she  did  not.  Therefore 


ON    THE   SUBJECT   OF    HUSBANDS         127 

she  deserves  every  dollar  which,  after  dis- 
cussing your  future  life  together,  you  feel 
that  you  can  afford  to  give  her.  She  ought 
to  be  made  to  feel  that  she  has  earned  it, 
and  that  she  may  spend  it  freely  and  hap- 
pily, or  invest  it,  just  as  she  chooses.  Do 
you  think  that  you  would  not  get  the  whole 
of  it  back  if  you  were  ill  and  needed  it  ?  It 
is  an  ungracious  thing  to  call  her  to  account 
for  every  dollar.  How  do  you  know  but 
that  she  wants  to  save  a  little  out  of  the 
market-money  to  buy  you  a  nicer  birthday 
present  than  usual  ? 

American  men  are  the  most  lavish  hus- 
bands in  the  world.  It  is  only  that  they 
do  not  think  what  a  joy  it  is  to  a  woman 
to  have  even  the  smallest  amount  of  money 
of  her  very  own,  concerning  which  no  one 
on  earth  has  a  right  to  question  her. 

And  yet,  what  is  the  use  of  trying  to  train 
a  husband  into  a  habit  of  thought  like  this, 
when  he  has  been  used  to  hearing  his  moth- 
er argue  his  father  into  giving  her  money, 
and  yet  to  know  that  she  and  all  the  world 
considered  him  generous,  and  that,  in  truth, 
ho  was  ? 


128         ON    THE    SUBJECT   OF    HUSBANDS 

A  woman  who  suffers  heartache  because 
her  husband  never  apologizes  to  her,  or  who 
endures  mortification  unspeakable  because 
she  has  not  a  penny  of  her  own,  has  no  right 
to  rebel,  even  in  her  own  heart,  unless  she 
is  training  her  son  to  make  the  sort  of  hus- 
band for  some  little  girl,  now  in  pinafores, 
which  she  would  have  wished  for  herself. 


A  FEW   MEN  WHO   BORE   US 


THE   SELF-MADE    MAN 


SOMEBODY  has  cleverly  defined  a  bore  as 
"a  man  who  talks  so  much  about  himself 
that  I  never  can  get  a  chance  to  talk  about 
myself."  But  that  is  too  narrow.  I  am 
broad-minded.  I  want  somebody  to  find  a 
definition  large  enough  (if  possible)  to  in- 
clude all  the  bores.  I  do  not  know,  how- 
ever, but  that  I  am  asking  too  much. 

Neither  is  this  definition  entirely  true. 
For  I  have  heard  men  talk  about  themselves 
for  hours  at  a  time,  and  they  talked  so  well 
and  kept  their  Ego  so  carefully  hidden  that 
I  was  enchanted,  and  never  mentioned  my- 
self, even  when  they  paused  for  breath. 
Then,  too,  I  have  been  bored  to  the  verge 
of  suicide  by  some  worthy  soul  who  insisted 
upon  talking  to  me  of  (presumably)  my  pet 
subject  —  myself — and  who  was  doing  his 


132  THE    SELF-MADE    MAN 

poor  little  best  to  say  nice  things  and  to  be 
entertaining. 

A  bore  is  a  man  or  a  woman  who  never 
knows  How  or  When.  There  are  times  in 
the  lives  of  all  of  us  when  it  bores  us  to  be 
talked  to  of  home  or  friends  or  wife  or  hus- 
band or  mother  or  religion.  There  are  times 
when  nothing  but  a  large,  comfortable  si- 
lence can  soothe  the  worry  and  fret  of  a 
trying  day.  At  such  times  let  the  tactless 
woman  and  the  thoughtless  man  beware, 
because  everything  they  say  will  be  a 
bore. 

It  is  not  wilful  cruelty  which  makes  us 
say  that  (to  a  woman)  the  word  "bore"  is 
in  the  masculine  gender  and  objective  case, 
object  of  our  deepest  detestation.  Men  are 
oftener  bores  than  women,  for  two  reasons  : 
One  is  that  they  seldom  stop  to  think  that 
they  could  be  a  bore  to  anybody ;  and  the 
second  is  that  we  women  never  let  them 
see  that  we  are  being  bored,  for  it  is  our 
aim  in  life  to  look  pleasant  and  to  keep  the 
men's  vanity  done  up  in  pink  cotton,  no 
matter  if  we  are  secretly  almost  dropping 
from  our  chairs  with  weariness — the  utter, 


THE   SELF-MADE    MAN  133 

unspeakable  weariness  of  the  soul,  com- 
pared to  which  weariness  of  the  body  is  a 
luxury. 

Women  are  too  tender-hearted.  A  woman 
cannot  bear  to  hurt  a  man's  feelings  by  let- 
ting him  know  that  he  is  killing  her  by  his 
stupidity.  And  even  if  she  did,  in  the  no- 
ble spirit  of  altruism,  rather  than  selfish- 
ness, the  next  woman,  with  one  reproachful 
glance  at  her,  would  pick  up  the  mutilated 
remains  of  the  man's  vanity  and  apply  the 
splints  of  her  respectful  attention  and  the 
balm  of  her  admiration,  partly  to  add  a  new 
scalp  to  her  belt,  and  partly  to  show  off  the 
unamiability  of  her  sister  woman. 

So  it  is  of  no  use  to  kick  against  the 
pricks.  Bores  are  in  this  world  for  a  pur- 
pose— to  chasten  the  proud  spirit  of  women, 
who  otherwise  might  become  too  indolent 
and  ease-loving  to  be  of  any  use — and  they 
are  here  to  stay.  We  have  no  conscience 
concerning  women  bores.  We  escape  from 
them  ruthlessly.  And,  perhaps,  because 
women  are  quicker  to  take  a  hint  is  the 
reason  there  are  fewer  of  them.  It  is  only 
the  men  who  are  left  helpless  in  their  ig- 


134  THE   SELF-MADE    MAN 

norance,  because  no  woman  has  the  cour- 
age to  tell  them. 

Our  only  defence  is  in  telling  the  men  in 
bulk  what  we  have  not  the  courage  nor  the 
wish  to  tell  the  individual,  and  letting  them 
sit  down  and  think  hard,  applying  the  re- 
lentless microscope  of  self-analysis  to  their 
carefully  tended  Ego,  to  see  if,  haply,  any 
of  these  things  we  say  apply  to  them- 
selves. 

Of  course,  this  is  hard  on  men,  because 
very  likely  some  of  those  who  have  been  led 
by  women  to  believe  that  they  are  entertain- 
ing, even  to  the  verge  of  fascination,  are  the 
very  ones  who  are  the  greatest  bores.  But 
we  women  do  our  best.  We  are  hampered 
by  our  supposed  amiability,  and  bound  up 
by  a  thousand  invisible  cords  of  tact  and 
policy  to  a  line  of  action  which  dupes  the 
cleverest  of  men.  And  we  are  shrewd 
enough  to  know  that  if  we  should  become 
what  they  now,  in  the  smart  of  their  wound- 
ed vanity,  would  call  honest,  they  would 
simply  turn  their  broadcloth  backs  upon  our 
uncalled-for  frankness  and  seek  the  hon- 
eyed society  of  some  sweet  woman  who  flat- 


THE   SELF-MADE   MAN  135 

tered  them  exactly  as  we  used  to  flatter 
them  before  we  became  so  "  honest." 

Ah,  well-a-day  !  Enter  the  self-made  man. 
And  with  him  the  commercial  spirit  of  the 
age.  Enter  the  clink  of  coin  and  the  unctu- 
ous corpulence  of  a  roll  of  bills.  Enter  the 
essence  of  self-satisfaction,  the  glorious  spec- 
tacle of  a  man  who  spells  "  myself  "  with  a 
capital  M,  and  Jehovah  with  a  little  j. 

Have  you  never  noticed  the  change  in 
conversation  with  the  entrance  of  a  new 
person  ?  How,  when  a  lovely  girl  enters,  the 
men  all  straighten  their  ties  and  the  women 
moisten  their  lips  ?  How,  when  the  new 
person  is  a  self-made  man,  with  his  newness 
so  apparent  that  he  seems  to  exhale  the 
odor  of  varnish  and  gilt  —  how  all  repose 
vanishes,  and  whatever  of  crudity  there  is 
anywhere  suddenly  makes  itself  known,  and 
rushes  forth  to  meet  the  wave  of  self-boast- 
ing which  sweeps  all  before  it  when  the 
self-made  man  speaks  ? 

And  yet  I  approve  of  the  self-made  man 
in  the  abstract.  It  is  the  true  spirit  of 
Americanism  which  caused  him  to  raise 
himself  from  the  ranks  of  the  poor  and  ob- 


136  THE    SELF-MADE    MAN 

scure,  and  educate  himself,  or,  more  likely 
still,  grow  rich  without  education.  But  is  it 
necessary  for  him  to  have  the  bad  taste  to 
boast  of  it,  and  never  let  you  forget  for  one 
moment  that  he  is  the  product  of  man's 
hand  and  that  the  Creator  only  acted  in  the 
capacity  of  sponsor  ? 

I  admire  the  pluck,  the  perseverance,  the 
indomitable  energy,  the  ambition  which  pro- 
duced the  n>an  of  prominence  from  the  raw 
boy;  but,  kind  Heaven,  let  us  forget  for  one 
brief  moment,  if  we  can,  that  he  did  this 
thing. 

It  is  not  the  fact  that  he  is  a  self-made 
man  that  bores  us — we  honor  him  for  that. 
But  it  is  his  vain  boasting  —  the  tactless 
forcing  of  his  unwelcome  personality  into 
general  conversation,  his  weak  vanity,  which 
demands  our  admiration  for  the  toil  and 
hardships  he  has  undergone,  which,  if  they 
had  served  the  purpose  they  should  have 
done,  would  have  made  him  too  strong  a 
man,  and  too  much  of  a  man,  to  force  either 
pity  or  admiration  from  people  when  it  was 
not  freely  offered. 

The  favorite  gibe  of  the  self-made  man  is 


THE   SELF-MADE   MAN  137 

directed  against  the  college  graduate.  Let 
there  be  a  young  fellow  present  who  is  fresh 
from  college,  and  let  him  mention  any  sub- 
ject connected  with  college  life,  from  hon- 
ors to  athletics,  and  then,  if  you  are  hostess, 
sit  still  and  let  the  icy  waves  of  misery  creep 
over  your  sensitive  soul,  for  this  is  the  op- 
portunity of  his  life  to  the  self-made  man. 
Hear  him  tear  colleges  limb  from  limb,  and 
cite  all  the  failures  of  which,  he  ever  has 
known  to  be  those  of  college  men.  Hear 
him  tell  of  the  futile  efforts  of  college  boys 
to  get  into  business.  Hear  him  drag  in 
all  the  evidences  of  shattered  constitutions, 
ruined  by  study,  and  then  hold  your  breath  ; 
for  all  this  is  but  preliminary  to  the  telling 
of  the  story  of  a  colossal  success — the  his- 
tory of  the  self-made  man.  You  might  as 
well  lean  back  and  let  him  have  his  say, 
for  he  has  only  been  waiting  all  this  time 
for  an  opening  in  the  conversation  to  in- 
sert the  wedge  of  his  Ego. 

It  seems  to  be  the  prerogative  of  some 
self-made  men  not  only  to  boast  of  them- 
selves, their  wives,  their  sons,  their  daugh- 
ters, their  houses,  their  horses — everything ! 


138  THE   SELF-MADE    MAN 

— but  to  decry  all  methods  of  achievement 
not  their  own,  and  all  successes  not  won 
by  their  methods.  These  are  the  self-made 
men  who  bring  into  disrepute  all  the  gran- 
deur and  glorious  achievement  of  their  kind. 
Why  must  they  spoil  it  ?  I  implore  them  to 
assume  a  virtue  if  they  have  it  not.  I  beg 
them,  with  all  their 'getting,  to  get  under- 
standing. And  if  they  will  not  open  their 
eyes  and  see  the  anguish  they  are  causing, 
if  they  cannot  detect  the  fixed  smile  of  po- 
lite endurance  on  the  tired  faces  of  their 
patient  women  friends,  there  will  come  a 
day,  and  we  can  already  see  its  faint  glim- 
mering in  the  East,  when  we  shall  not  care 
whether  they  are  self-made,  and  we  could 
even  live  through  it  if  they  were  not  made 
at  all. 


THE   DYSPEPTIC 


THE  dyspeptic  generally  wants  to  tell  you 
all  about  it.  That  is  a  bore  to  begin  with ; 
for  nobody  in  the  world  wants  to  hear  any- 
body in  the  world  tell  all  about  anything  in 
the  world.  Oh,  those  wearisome,  breathless 
people,  who  insist  upon  giving  you  the  tire- 
some details  of  insipid  trivialities  !  There 
is  no  escape  from  them ;  they  are  every- 
where. They  are  to  be  found  on  farms, 
in  mining- camps,  in  women's  clubs,  in 
churches,  jails,  and  lunatic  asylums,  and 
the  nearest  approach  to  a  release  from  them 
is  to  be  fashionable,  for  in  society  nobody 
ever  is  allowed  to  finish  a  sentence. 

This  sort  of  a  bore  can  only  be  explained 
on  the  microbe  theory.  None  other  can  ac- 
count for  its  universality.  You  can  carry 
contagion  of  it  in  your  clothes  and  inocu- 


140  THE    DYSPEPTIC 

late  a  person  of  weak  mental  constitution, 
who  is  of  a  build  to  take  anything,  until,  in 
a  fortnight,  he  or  she  will  be  a  hopeless 
slave  to  the  tell-all-about-everything  habit. 
There  is  nothing  like  the  pleasing  swiftness 
of  some  of  our  modern  diseases  about  it — 
such  as  heart  failure,  which  nips  you  off 
painlessly.  It  is  rather  like  the  old-fash- 
ioned New  England  consumption,  which 
gives  you  a  hectic  flush  and  an  irritating 
hack,  but  which  you  can  thrive  on  for  fifty 
years  and  then  die  of  something  else. 

I  never  heard  of  a  yacht  which  did  not 
carry  at  least  one  of  this  particular  breed  of 
bores  upon  every  trip.  I  never  heard  of  a 
private -car  party  which  was  free  from  it. 
Or,  if  you  do  not  carry  them  with  you,  you 
meet  them  on  the  way,  and  they  ruin  the 
sunset  for  the  whole  party. 

Something  ought  to  be  done  about  it. 
There  ought  to  be  a  poll-tax  on  bores. 
Mothers  ought  to  train  their  children  to 
avoid  lying  and  boring  people  with  equal 
earnestness.  Infirmaries  should  be  estab- 
lished for  the  purpose  of  making  the  stupid 
interesting,  or  classes  organized  on  "  How 


THE   DYSPEPTIC  141 

to  be  Brief,"  or  on  "The  Art  of  Relating 
Salient  Points,"  or  on  "The  Best  Method 
of  Skipping  the  Unessentials  in  Conversa- 
tion." /would  go,  for  one. 

I  quite  envy  a  man  who  is  an  acknowl- 
edged bore.  He  is  so  free  from  responsi- 
bility. He  does  not  care  that  the  conversa- 
tion dies  every  time  he  shows  his  face.  He 
is  used  to  it.  It  is  nothing  to  him  that 
clever  men  and  women  ache  audibly  in  his 
presence.  He  has  no  reputation  to  lose. 
The  hostess  is  not  a  friend  of  his,  for  whom 
he  feels  that  he  must  exert  himself.  A  bore 
has  no  friends.  He  is  a  social  leech. 

It  implies,  first  of  all,  a  superb  conceit  to 
think  anybody  wishes  one  to  tell  all  about 
anything,  but  conceit  is  a  natural  attribute 
— a  twin  brother  of  its  sister,  vanity — and 
everybody  has  it  to  a  greater  or  less  de- 
gree. Indeed,  the  cleverest  man  I  know — 
quite  the  cleverest — is  one  who  always  pan- 
ders to  this  particular  foible  because  he 
recognizes  its  universality.  He  has  a  coun- 
try-house, which  is  always  full  of  guests,  with 
a  great  many  girls  among  them.  Every  af- 
ternoon, when  he  drives  out  from  town,  his 


I42  THE   DYSPEPTIC 

first  sentence  is,  "  Now  come,  children,  and 
tell  me  all  about  everything.  Who  has  been 
here,  and  what  they  said,  and  what  you 
thought,  and  everything  that  has  happened, 
including  all  that  is  going  to  happen.  Don't 
skip  a  word." 

See  the  base  flattery  of  that !  Is  it  any 
wonder  that  his  house  is  always  full  ?  What 
bores  he  would  be  responsible  for  making 
if  we  were  stupid  enough  to  do  as  he  asks! 
The  chief  reason  people  do  not  is  that  ten 
people  cannot  tell  all  they  know  about  every- 
thing, even  if  they  want  to.  He  is  only 
furnished  with  two  ears. 

The  dyspeptic  is  one  who  makes  the  most 
valiant  effort  to  try.  His  dyspepsia  is  the 
most  important  issue  of  the  world  with  him, 
and  he  will  talk  about  it.  He  cannot  keep 
still  and  let  other  people  enjoy  their  sound 
digestion  and  healthful  sleep.  He  will  not 
even  let  other  people  eat  in  peace.  When 
he  refuses  a  dish  at  table  he  must  needs 
tell  you  why — just  as  if  you  cared! 

"  Have  some  coffee,  Mr.  Bore  ?" 

"  No,  I  thank  you,  Madame  Sans-Gene. 
I  like  coffee,  but  it  doesn't  like  me!" 


THE    DYSPEPTIC  143 

Irritating,  maddeningly  reiterated  words — 
the  trade-mark  of  the  dyspeptic  bore!  I 
feel  like  saying,  "I  agree  with  the  coffee.  / 
don't  like  you  either  !" 

A  dyspeptic  disagrees  with  me  as  relig- 
iously as  if  I  had  eaten  him. 

No  wonder  a  man  is  ill  who  never  thinks 
or  talks  of  anything  but  the  seat  of  his  ail- 
ment, for  talk  about  it  he  will,  and  tell  you 
that  he  cannot  eat  hot  breads  or  pastry  or 
griddle-cakes  or  waffles.  And  if  any  of  those 
adorable  things  which  your  soul  loves  are  on 
the  table,  he  will  sit  and  watch  you  eat  them, 
with  his  hand  on  his  own  pulse,  and  will  en- 
tertain you  with  cheerful  statements  of  how 
he  would  be  feeling  if  he  were  eating  any  of 
the  deadly  poisons,  until  it  nearly  gives  you 
indigestion  to  hear  him  describe  it. 

I  dare  say  I  know  plenty  of  women  dys- 
peptics, as  long  as  dyspepsia  is  said  to  be 
our  national  ailment,  but  if  I  do  I  never 
hear  them  talk  about  it. 

Of  course  every  woman  knows  that  a 
sick  man  is  sicker  than  a  thousand  sick 
women,  each  of  whom  is  twice  as  sick  as 
he  is.  We  all  know  that  he  can  groan 


144 


THE   DYSPEPTIC 


louder  and  roll  his  eyes  higher  and  keep 
more  people  flying  about,  and  all  this 
with  just  a  plain  pain,  than  his  wife  would 
do  with  seven  fatal  ailments.  Then  to  hear 
him  tell  about  it,  after  he  has  recovered,  is 
to  imagine  that  he  is  Lazarus  over  again, 
and  that  the  day  of  miracles  has  returned, 
that  he  ever  lived  to  tell  the  tale.  All  this 
refers  to  an  acute  attack.  But  when  his 
trouble  is  chronic,  and  it  has  to  do,  like  dys- 
pepsia, with  a  man's  eating ! — you  cannot  es- 
cape. He  will  tell  you  all  about  it. 

In  the  first  place,  dyspepsia  is  such  a 
refined  and  lady-like  trouble.  It  has  no  dis- 
gusting details.  You  can  refer  to  it  at  all 
times  without  fear  of  nauseating  your  hear- 
ers. In  the  second  place,  you  can  count 
on  nearly  half  of  your  hearers  having  it  too, 
as  dyspepsia  is  almost  as  catching  as  Chris- 
tian Science. 

Carlyle  was  the  most  famous  of  dyspep- 
tics. But  magnificent  as  he  was  in  his 
growling,  I  fancy  it  is  more  bearable  to  read 
about  it  than  it  was  for  that  adorable  wife 
of  his  to  hear  him  talk  about  it.  How  well 
we  can  imagine  her  feelings  when  she  wrote, 


THE    DYSPEPTIC  145 

"The  amount  of  bile  that  he  brings  home 
is  awfully  grand." 

But  one  forgives  much  of  his  dyspeptic 
talk,  and  even  allows  the  mantle  of  one's 
Christian  charity  to  cover  the  sins  of  lesser 
bile-cursed  men  to  hear  how  he  sums  up 
the  subject : 

"With  stupidity  and  sound  digestion, man 
may  front  much.  But  what,  in  these  dull, 
unimaginative  days,  are  the  terrors  of  con- 
science to  the  diseases  of  the  liver?  Not 
on  morality,  but  on  cookery,  let  us  build 
our  stronghold.  There,  brandishing  our  fry- 
ing-pan as  censer,  let  us  offer  sweet  incense 
to  the  devil  and  live  at  ease  on  the  fat 
things  he  has  provided  for  his  elect." 

I  really  do  feel  sorry  for  dyspeptics  when 
I  read  a  thing  like  that.  I  am  not  heartless. 
It  must  be  a  sad  thing  not  to  be  able  to  eat 
lobster  and  ice-cream  together,  and  to  have 
to  say  "  No  "  to  broiled  mushrooms,  and  not 
to  dare  to  eat  Welsh-rarebits  after  the  the- 
atre, and  to  have  to  lock  up  your  chafing- 
dish.  But  I  do  say  this  :  unless  a  man 
can  talk  of  his  trouble  as  cleverly  as  Car- 
lyle — and  some  of  the  choice  dyspeptics  I 


146  THE    DYSPEPTIC 

know  can  almost  do  that — I  want  them  not 
to  talk  at  all.  If  they  suffer,  let  them  do 
it  in  silence.  If  they  die,  let  them  die  en- 
tertainingly, or  else,  I  say,  don't  die  in 
public. 

I  never  see  a  dyspeptic  with  his  little 
pair  of  silver  scales  on  the  table,  weighing 
out  two  ounces  of  meat,  or  one  ounce  of 
bread,  and  looking  like  a  death's-head  at  a 
feast,  and  talking  like  a  grave-digger  with 
Yorick's  skull  for  a  theme,  that  I  do  not 
think  of  this  : 

"  Fantastic  tricks  enough  man  has  played 
in  his  time  ;  has  fancied  himself  to  be  most 
things,  even  down  to  an  animated  heap  of 
glass  ;  but  to  fancy  himself  a  dead  iron  bal- 
ance for  weighing  pains  and  pleasures  on 
was  reserved  for  this,  his  latter  era." 


THE  TOO-ACCURATE   MAN 


WOMEN  often  complain  that  men  in  so- 
ciety will  not  return  measure  for  measure 
in  conversation,  but  stalk  about  dumb  and 
unanswering,  leaving  women  gasping  from 
the  fatigue  of  entertaining  them. 

But  I  am  on  the  side  of  the  men.  I 
always  am.  They  are  a  misjudged  and 
maligned  set.  I  approve  of  men  keeping 
silence  when  they  have  nothing  to  say.  It 
shows  that  they  recognize  their  limitations 
and  refuse  to  rush  in  where  angels  fear  to 
tread. 

Is  not  a  wise  silence  sometimes  to  be 
preferred  to  the  wisest  speech  ?  Is  there 
not  often  a  finer  eloquence  in  an  answer- 
ing silence  than  the  cleverest  words  could 
express  ? 

A  man  who  talks  constantly  has  a  thou- 


148  THE   TOO-ACCURATE   MAN 

sand  ways  always  at  hand  in  which  to  make 
a  fool  of  himself.  A  silent  man  has  but 
one,  and  even  then  there  are  always 
those  who  insist  upon  thinking  that  he  is 
silent  because  of  his  wisdom,  and  not  from 
lack  of  it,  although  Eliza  Leslie  says,  "We 
cannot  help  thinking  that  when  a  head  is 
full  of  ideas  some  of  them  must  involun- 
tarily ooze  out." 

But  as  a  stimulus  to  conversation,  an 
intelligently  silent  man  is  as  instantaneous 
in  his  effect  as  music  or  eating.  Men  have 
become  famous  as  conversationists  who 
only  sat  and  looked  admiringly  at  vivacious 
women.  It  is  a  rare  accomplishment,  that 
of  wise  silence.  It  is  more  of  a  delicate 
compliment,  more  condensed  and  boiled- 
down  flattery,  more  scent  of  incense  than 
the  most  fulsome  speech.  And  if  one's 
victim  is  rather  a  voluble  talker,  with  a 
reputation  for  wit,  a  man  need  never  rack 
his  brains  beforehand,  wondering  what  to 
say,  or  how  he  can  keep  up  with  her.  Let 
him  listen  to  her,  with  his  metaphorical 
mouth  open  in  wrapt  admiration,  and  she 
is  his. 


THE   TOO-ACCURATE    MAN  149 

Silence  is  a  weapon.  It  is  a  powerful 
corrective  when  used  against  a  silent  per- 
son, who  then  sees  himself  as  others  see 
him.  It  is  a  defence,  used  against  the  in- 
discreet, and  in  the  hands  of  wise  men  it 
is  a  suit  of  armor.  Silence  is  never  dan- 
gerous, unless,  like  a  gun,  in  the  hands  of  a 
fool.  How,  then,  can  women  complain  of 
silent  men,  unless  they  mean  fools,  and  if 
they  do,  why  not  say  so,  and  fortify  their 
drawing-rooms  with  music-boxes  or  magic 
lanterns  ? 

But  anything  so  negatively  unhappy  as 
silence  is  the  least  of  one's  bores.  One  is 
seldom  annoyed  by  the  persistence  of  a  si- 
lent man,  for  silence  often  means  shyness ; 
therefore  it  is  in  our  power  to  curtail  his 
usefulness.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  take  a 
type  of  the  talkative  man,  the  literal,  too- 
accurate  man,  who  insists  upon  finishing 
his  sentences,  and  who  will  stop  to  dot  his 
i's  and  to  cross  his  t's,  and  whose  dates  are 
of  more  moment  than  his  soul's  salvation — 
can  anything  be  done  for  him  ? 

"  Avoid  giving  invitations  to  bores,"  says 
a  clever  woman,  "  they  will  come  without." 


1 50  THE   TOO- ACCURATE   MAN 

Alas,  how  true  !  The  too-accurate  man  is 
ubiquitous.  If  you  hear  of  him,  and  refuse 
to  meet  him,  it  is  only  to  find  that  he  has 
married  your  best  friend,  whom  worlds 
could  not  bribe  you  to  give  up.  If  you 
weed  him  out  of  your  acquaintance,  it  is 
only  to  realize  that  he  was  born  into  your 
relationship  a  generation  ago,  before  you 
could  prevent  it.  Sometimes  he  is  your 
father,  sometimes  your  brother.  Both  of 
these,  however,  can  be  lived  down.  But 
occasionally  you  discover  that,  in  a  mo- 
ment of  frenzy,  you  have  married  him  ! 
Heaven  help  you  then,  for  "  marriage 
stays  with  one  like  a  murder !" 

Imagine  living  all  one's  life  with  a  man 
who  relates  thus  the  trivial  incident  of 
having  walked  with  a  friend  up  Broadway 
last  Thursday  afternoon,  when  he  met  two 
little  boys  about  ten  years  old  who  asked 
him  to  buy  a  paper : 

"  Last  week — Thursday,  I  think  it  was, 
though  perhaps  it  was  Friday,  or,  maybe, 
Saturday.  Let  me  see:  when  did  I  leave 
my  office  early  ?  It  must  have  been  Thurs- 
day, because  Friday  I  stayed  later  than 


THE   TOO-ACCURATE   MAN  151 

usual.  Yes,  it  was  Thursday.  It  was  about 
four  o'clock,  perhaps  a  little  later — a  quar- 
ter after  four,  or  maybe  half -past,  but  I 
hardly  think  it  could  have  been  as  late  as 
that.  I  think  it  was  nearer  four  than  half- 
past.  Anyway,  I  was  walking  up  Broad- 
way with  a  man  by  the  name  of  Bigelow. 
Bigelow?  Bigelow?  Was  that  his  name? 
It  commenced  with  B,  and  had  two  sylla- 
bles. Boswell?  Blackwell?  Blayney?  What 
was  that  fellow's  name  ?  I  never  can  tell  a 
story  unless  I  get  the  man's  name  right.  Bil- 
ton  ?  Bashforth  ?  Buckby  ?  No,  not  Buck- 
by,  but  that  sounds  like  it.  Buckley  ?  That's 
it.  That  was  his  name !  I  knew  I'd  get 
it.  Well,  I  was  walking  up  Broadway  with 
Buckley,  and  at  about  Thirty-fourth  Street — 
Wait  a  moment — was  it  Thirty-fourth  Street  ? 
It  couldn't  have  been  that  far  up.  About 
Thirty-second  Street,  I  think.  I  don't  quite 
remember  whether  we  had  passed  the  Im- 
perial or  not.  But  it  was  within  a  block  of 
it,  anyway,  when  we  met  two  little  boys 
about  ten  years  old — perhaps  one  was  a 
little  older ;  one  looked  about  ten,  and  the 
other  about  eleven,  or  perhaps  even  twelve, 


152  THE   TOO-ACCURATE   MAN 

although  I  think  ten  would  come  nearer  to 
it — and  they  asked  us  in  a  tone  between  a 
whine  and  a  cry — the  word  whimper  more 
nearly  describes  it — if  we  would  buy  either 
a  Sun  or  a  World — I've  forgotten  which." 

Delectable  as  honesty  is  in  a  bank  clerk, 
or  would  be  in  a  lawyer,  one  yearns  for  a 
little  less  accuracy  in  the  moral  make-up 
of  the  too-accurate  man ;  for  a  little  of  the 
celestial  leaven  of  exaggeration  in  the  dusty 
dryness  of  his  dead -level  garrulousness. 
What  difference  does  it  make  whether  the 
Revolutionary  War  took  place  before  or 
after  the  discovery  of  America,  as  long  as 
you  make  your  war  anecdote  interesting? 
Who  cares  whether  Napoleon  or  Welling- 
ton came  out  ahead  at  Waterloo,  as  long 
as  your  listener  is  kept  awake  by  your  re- 
cital ? 

I  related  a  sprightly  incident  only  last 
night  about  a  watch  which  Francis  the  Sec- 
ond gave  to  Mary  Stuart,  only  with  my  usual 
airy  touch  I  said  Francis  the  Second  gave 
it  to  Marie  Antoinette !  What  difference 
does  it  make  ?  They  were  both  Marys,  and 
they  are  both  dead. 


THE   TOO-ACCURATE    MAN  153 

A  most  unpleasant  old  party  corrected 
me,  and  added  :  "  Francis  died  about  two 
hundred  years  before  Marie  Antoinette  was 
born." 

"  Then  all  the  more  of  a  compliment  that 
he  should  have  given  her  the  watch !"  I 
said.  And  I  fancy  I  had  him  there. 

That  is  the  sort  of  man  who  interrupts 
his  wife's  dinner-stories  all  the  way  through 
with,  "  1812,  my  dear";  "Ouida,  not  Emer- 
son"; "Herod,  not  Homer";  until  I 
shouldn't  be  surprised  to  see  her  throw  a 
plate  at  his  head.  Oh,  isn't  it  fine  that 
one  does  not  dare  to  do  all  the  things  one 
feels  like  doing  in  society? 
'  There  is  only  one  way  to  get  even  with 
the  too-accurate  man,  and  that  is,  when  he 
has  finished  his  most  exciting  story,  to  say, 
"  And  then  what  happened  next  ?" 

Accuracy  is  almost  fatal  to  a  flow  of  spir- 
its. If  one  is  obliged  to  weigh  one's  words, 
one  may  live  to  be  called  a  worthy  old  soul, 
but  one  will  not  be  in  demand  at  dinner- 
parties. 

The  too-accurate  man  need  not  pride  him- 
self upon  his  honesty  above  his  fellow-men. 


154  THE   TOO-ACCURATE   MAN 

Oftenest  he  is  to  be  found  paying  tithe  of 
mint,  anise,  and  cumin,  and  neglecting  the 
weightier  matters  of  the  law. — justice,  mercy, 
and  truth.  He  strains  at  a  gnat  and  swal- 
lows a  camel.  He  is  not  more  trustworthy 
than  the  man  whose  conversation  is  embel- 
lished with  hyperbole,  because  he  at  least 
has  the  wit  to  discriminate,  and  the  too- 
accurate  man  is  only  stupid. 

In  essentials,  the  man  who  decorates  his 
conversation  with  mild  but  pleasing  pat- 
terns of  that  style  of  statement  made  famous 
by  one  Ananias,  is  to  be  depended  upon 
quite  as  surely  as  the  man  who  takes  all 
the  sunshine  from  the  day,  and  leads  one's 
thoughts  to  dwell  on  high,  by  spending  ten 
minutes  trying  to  recall  whether  he  dropped 
that  stone  on  his  foot  before  or  after  dinner. 
He,  and  not  your  own  evil  nature,  should  be 
responsible  for  your  instinctive  wish  that 
he  had  happened  to  be  toying  with  a  bowl- 
der instead  of  a  small  stone  which  could 
only  mutilate. 

The  painful  accuracy  which  makes  some 
men  such  deadly  bores  is  a  form  of  mono- 
mania. It  is  the  same  sort  of  trouble  which 


THE   TOO- ACCURATE    MAN  155 

afflicts  a  kleptomaniac.  She  will  steal  the 
veriest  trash,  just  so  she  can  be  stealing. 
He  hoards  the  most  useless  trifles  until 
his  mind  is  nothing  but  a  garret  filled  with 
isolated  bits  of  rubbish  that  nobody  wants 
to  hear,  unless  one  has  an  essay  to  write ; 
and  even  then  it  is  easier  to  consult  the 
encyclopaedia. 

I  never  believe  a  statement  made  by  a 
too-accurate  man  one  bit  more  quickly  than 
one  made  by  a  genial,  entertaining  diner- 
out.  If  it  were  on  the  subject  of  time- 
tables, just  between  ourselves,  I  should 
take  the  trouble  to  verify  both. 


THE   IRRESISTIBLE   MAN 


To  other  men,  the  irresistible  man  too 
often  means  the  man  who  publicly  ogles 
women.  That  is  because  men  can  see  him. 
But  to  women,  what  we  can  see  forms  but 
a  small  portion  of  our  lives.  We  hear  more 
than  we  see,  and  feel  more  than  we  hear. 
George  Eliot  says  :  "The  best  of  us  go  about 
well  wadded  with  stupidity,  otherwise  we 
would  die  of  the  roar  that  lies  on  the  other 
side  of  silence." 

But  most  men  have  to  see  things,  and  they 
can  always  see  the  ogling  man,  and  he  al- 
ways makes  them  perfectly  furious.  Queer, 
isn't  it,  when  the  Simon  Tappertits  of  this 
life  are  the  least  of  the  men  who  bore  us  ? 
In  fact,  I  never  should  have  thought  of  him 
if  some  man  had  not  spoken  of  him.  And 
\vhile  I  occasionally  have  been  honored  by 


THE    IRRESISTIBLE    MAN  157 

the  exertions  of  one  of  these  insects  to  at- 
tract my  attention,  thereby  proving  that  I 
am  a  woman,  I  can  honestly  say  that  I  never 
remember  seeing  one.  Women  who  are  ca- 
pable of  being  really  bored  never  even  see 
such  men  ;  any  more  than  if  you  were  be- 
ing roasted  alive  you  would  care  if  a  hair- 
pin pulled. 

It  is  a  mistake  to  confound  the  irresist- 
ible man  with  the  fool.  Neither  is  he  stu- 
pid. Very  often  he  is  a  man  of  no  small 
amount  of  brain.  He  is,  of  course,  always 
conceited,  and  generally,  though  not  always, 
handsome.  I  am  not  describing  the  soft, 
sapient,  pretty  man  who  lisps,  nor  the  weak- 
kneed  young  gentleman  with  pink  cheeks 
who  sings  tenor.  Far  worse.  The  irresist- 
ible man,  as  we  know  him,  is  often  a  man 
who  is  doing  a  man's  work  in  the  world,  and 
doing  it  well.  He  is  frequently  a  man  of 
character,  but  through  that  character  runs 
this  strange,  irritating  thread  of  conceit, 
which  blinds  our  eyes  to  whatever  of  real 
worth  may  be  within,  because  of  his  exas- 
peratingly  confident  exterior. 

We  should  brush  him  aside  as  carelessly 


158  THE    IRRESISTIBLE    MAN" 

as  if  he  were  a  fly  should  there  be  nothing 
to  him  worth  hating.  But  the  maddening 
part  of  it  to  us  is  that  the  irresistible  man 
is  worth  saving,  only  he  will  not  be  saved. 
He  thinks  he  is  perfect  as  he  is.  If  he 
could  get  our  point  of  view  and  let  some 
woman  take  a  hand  at  him,  she  might  efface 
his  irresistibleness  and  make  a  man  of  him. 
But  no,  the  irresistible  man  is  in  this  world 
to  give  points — not  to  take  them. 

A  queer  thing  about  this  particular  type 
of  the  irresistible  man  is  that  he  nearly  al- 
ways has  grown  up  in  a  small  town  and  has 
only  come  to  the  city  because  his  village 
got  too  small  for  his  talents.  That  of  itself 
explains  his  whole  attitude  towards  the 
world.  Having  probably  been  the  "show 
pupil "  at  school,  having  taken  prizes  and 
ranked  first  among  his  fellows  until  he  was 
twenty -one,  he  brings  that  confident  atti- 
tude with  him  and  plants  himself  in  the  heart 
of  the  great  city,  like  Ajax  defying  the  light- 
ning, without  the  thought  that  changed  en- 
vironments might  demand  change  of  con- 
duct as  well  as  change  in  clothes. 

Doubtless  the  whole  town  helped  to  spoil 


THE   IRRESISTIBLE   MAN  159 

him.  Doubtless  he  has  heard  all  his  life 
that  the  town  was  too  small  for  him,  and 
that  a  man  like  himself  ought  to  go  to  the 
city,  where  there  would  be  a  market  for  his 
talents.  Doubtless  he  has  conquered  the 
hearts  of  all  the  village  maidens ;  therefore 
he  expects  the  same  arts  to  obtain  among 
city  girls.  This  system  of  easy  victory  and 
of  yearning  for  other  worlds  to  conquer,  in- 
stead of  making  him  fit  himself  capably  for 
a  larger  field,  has,  on  account  of  this  absurd 
fault  of  irresistibleness,  only  made  him  su- 
perficial. His  crudeness  is,  to  the  unini- 
tiated, almost  pitiful.  Having  never  been 
obliged  to  work  for  pre-eminence,  he  decries 
exertion,  and  never  admits  that  he  has  to  try 
hard  to  win  anything.  His  cheap  little  ac- 
complishments of  singing — badly — possibly 
even  of  reciting  dialect  with  realistic  effects, 
he  is  accustomed  to  say  he  "just  picked 
up."  I  often  have  thought  that  he  must 
have  picked  them  up  after  somebody  else 
had  thrown  them  away.  But  they  have  been 
efficacious  in  his  town,  and  in  a  larger  field, 
with  foemen  more  worthy  of  his  steel,  they 
are  intended  to  enslave. 


l6o  THE    IRRESISTIBLE    MAN 

The  irresistible  man  is  too  pitiful  to 
laugh  at  with  any  degree  of  comfort.  The 
pathos  of  the  situation  is  almost  too  ap- 
parent. That  is  one  reason  why  he  is 
allowed  to  go  on  as  he  is.  It  is  why  no  one 
has  the  heart  to  try  to  correct  him.  What 
can  you  say  to  a  man  whose  confidence  in 
his  power  to  please  you  is  such  that  at  part- 
ing he  says:  "I  cannot  spare  you  another 
evening  this  week,  but  I'll  come  next  Thurs- 
day if  I  can.  Don't  expect  me,  however, 
until  I  let  you  know,  and  don't  be  dis- 
appointed if  you  find  that  I  can't  come,  after 
all." 

To  be  sure,  you  have  not  asked  him  to  re- 
peat his  visit  at  all.  To  be  sure,  you  have 
nearly  died  during  this  call  which  is  just 
over.  But  what  are  you  going  to  do  ?  We 
have  a  white  bulldog  whose  confident  atti- 
tude towards  the  world  is  quite  like  that  of 
the  irresistible  man.  Jack  blunders  in 
where  nobody  wants  him,  and  puts  his  great, 
heavy  paw  on  our  best  gowns,  and  scratches 
at  the  door  when  we  want  to  sleep,  and  gets 
under  our  feet  when  we  are  trying  to  catch 
a  train,  and  makes  a  nuisance  of  himself 


THE    IRRESISTIBLE    MAN  161 

generally.  But  he  is  so  sure  that  we  love 
him  that  we  haven't  the  heart  to  turn  him 
out-of-doors.  We  simply  endure  him,  be- 
cause he  is  a  dumb  brute  who  is  so  used  to 
being  petted  that  everybody  tolerates  him, 
and  nobody  tries  to  improve  him  or  teach 
him  better  manners. 

Confidence  is  a  beautiful  thing.  But  it  is 
also  one  of  the  most  delicate  of  attributes, 
and  requires  the  daintiest  handling.  The 
man  who  is  confident  with  women  must  be 
very  sure  of  a  personal  magnetism,  or  of  suf- 
ficient merit  to  insure  success,  otherwise  his 
confidence  will  prove  the  flattest  of  failures. 
The  only  difference  between  the  irresistible 
man  who  bores  us  to  death  and  the  suc- 
cessful man  who  is  so  fascinating  that  he 
cannot  come  too  often,  is  that  one  has  con- 
fidence with  nothing  to  base  it  on,  and  the 
other  bases  his  confidence  on  fact. 

Women  are  not  looking  for  flaws  in  men. 
They  are  only  too  anxious  to  make  the  best 
of  sorry  specimens,  and  to  shut  their  eyes  to 
faults,  and  to  coax  virtues  into  prominence. 
Men  have  nothing  to  complain  of  in  the  way 
women  in  society  treat  them.  They  get 


162  THE    IRRESISTIBLE    MAN 

better  than  they  deserve  and  much  better 
than  they  give.  So  all  they  will  have  to  do 
to  win  a  better  opinion  will  be  to  deserve 
it,  and,  if  they  make  never  so  slight  an  ad- 
vance, they  will  see  that  they  are  met  more 
than  half-way  by  even  the  most  captious 
critics  of  their  acquaintance. 

Adaptability  is  a  heaven-sent  gift.  It  is 
like  the  straw  used  in  packing  china.  It 
not  only  saves  jarring,  but  it  prevents  worse 
disasters,  and  without  it  a  man  is  only  safe 
when  he  is  alone.  The  moment  he  comes 
into  smart  contact  with  his  fellow-beings 
there  is  a  crash,  and  the  assembled  company 
have  a  vision  of  broken  fragments  of  human- 
ity, which  might  have  remained  whole  and 
suffered  no  more  injury  than  a  possible 
nick  had  the  combatants  been  padded  with 
adaptability.  The  irresistible  man  is  the  man 
who  thinks  he  can  get  through  the  world 
without  it.  The  irresistible  man  is  the  one 
who  is  so  perfect  in  his  own  estimation  that 
he  needs  no  change.  He  is  beyond  human 
help. 


THE   STUPID   MAN 


His  opposite,  the  clever  man,  said  to 
me  yesterday :  "  You  know,  to  be  actually 
interested  is  as  likely  to  make  one  grate- 
ful as  anything  in  this  world,  unless  it  be  a 
realization  of  the  kindness  of  Fate  in  spar- 
ing us  the  perpetual  society  of  fools." 

The  perpetual  society  of  fools !  Think 
of  it,  and  then  revel,  you  women,  in  the 
thought  that  we  are  only  bored  occasion- 
ally— once  a  week,  say,  or  once  a  day,  or 
once  every  two  hours,  taking  our  bores  as 
we  do  ill-flavored  medicine.  It  never  oc- 
curred to  me  before  I  heard  that  phrase 
that  life  held  anything  more  wearisome  than 
to  be  bored  occasionally. 

I  have  read  Ben-Hur,  and  thought  how 
awful  it  would  be  to  be  a  galley-slave.  I 
have  read  The  Seats  of  the  Mighty,  and 


164  THE   STUPID    MAN 

shuddered  at  the  idea  of  being  imprisoned 
for  five  years  alone  and  without  a  light.  I 
have  seen  a  flock  of  sheep  driven  by  shout- 
ing, panting,  racing  little  boys,  and  have  been 
glad  I  did  not  have  to  drive  sheep  for  my 
daily  bread.  I  have  rejoiced  that  my  lot 
was  not  that  of  a  Paris  cab-horse,  but  I 
never  in  all  my  life  thought  of  any  fate  so 
appalling  as  that  contained  in  those  words — 
the  perpetual  society  of  fools. 

Why  not  reform  our  penitentiary  meth- 
ods ?  What  is  a  prison  cell  to  a  clever  em- 
bezzler, if  he  can  have  books  and  a  pipe  ? 
Nothing  but  a  long  rest  for  his  worn-out 
nerves — possibly  a  grateful  change. 

But  what  would  be  the  feelings  of  a  man 
of  brilliant  intellect — for  the  accomplished 
villain  is  always  clever — who  was  detected 
in  his  crime,  and  who  stood  breathless  be- 
fore his  accusers,  waiting  for  and  expect- 
ing a  life  sentence  at  hard  labor,  to  hear 
the  judge's  voice  pronounce  sentence,  "  Con- 
demned for  life  to  the  perpetual  society  of 
fools !" 

I  believe  the  man  would  be  taken  from 
the  court-room  a  raving  maniac. 


THE   STUPID    MAN  165 

I  cannot  but  think  that  a  real  fool  is  con- 
scious of  his  own  foolishness.  He  must 
realize  his  aloofness  from  the  rest  of  man- 
kind, and  in  moments  of  such  bitter  self- 
knowledge  I  can  picture  many  whom  the 
world  regards  as  too  far  gone  to  compre- 
hend their  calamity  praying  the  prayer  of 
the  court-jester,  "God  be  merciful  to  me  a 
fool."  I  am  a  little  tender  towards  such. 
I  do  not  condemn  them.  They  have  reached 
the  stage  when  they  are  the  victims  of  hu- 
man pity  —  a  lamentable  condition.  But 
those  dense  persons  inhabiting  the  thickly 
populated  region  bordering  on  foolishness — 
those  self-satisfied,  uncomprehending  ego- 
tists occupying  the  half-way  house  between 
wisdom  and  folly,  known  as  stupidity  — 
against  such  my  wrath  burns  fiercely.  They 
are  so  deceptive — so  un-get-at-able.  They 
wear  the  semblance  of  wisdom,  yet  it  is 
but  a  cloak  to  snare  and  delude  mankind 
into  testing  their  intelligence.  They  are  not 
labelled  by  Heaven,  like  the  fools  we  may 
avoid  if  we  will,  or  to  whom  we  may  go  in 
a  spirit  of  philanthropy.  They  do  not  wear 
straw  in  their  hair  like  maniacs,  nor  drool 


166  THE    STUPID    MAN 

like  simpletons.  Now  they  infest  society 
clad  in  the  most  immaculate  of  evening 
clothes.  Often  they  are  college  graduates, 
and  get  along  very  well  with  other  men. 
They  are  frequently  found  among  the  rich, 
sometimes  even  among  the  poor.  Some- 
times they  are  stolid  and  cannot  under- 
stand. Sometimes  they  are  indifferent  and 
won't  understand.  Sometimes  they  are 
English. 

We  women  are  those  upon  whose  souls 
their  stupidity  bears  most  heavily.  But 
stay  —  they  do  not  oppress  all  women 
alike !  There  are  women  whose  spiritual 
needs  never  soar  above  the  alphabet.  When 
these  men  are  men  of  family,  and  one  ex- 
pects to  find  their  wives  sitting  with  clinched 
hands  and  set  teeth,  simply  enduring  life 
and  praying  for  death,  one  is  often  sur- 
prised to  see  that  they  are  generally  stout 
women,  who  wear  many  diamonds  and  a 
bovine  expression  in  their  eyes.  Evident- 
ly there  is  no  nervous  tension  in  their 
house,  and  the  dense  man  is  quite  capable 
of  comprehending  the  a  b  c  of  human  nat- 
ure and  of  keeping  his  family  in  flannels. 


THE   STUPID   MAN  167 

In  strictly  fashionable  society  the  stupid 
man  is  not  conspicuous,  because  one  never 
has  time  to  comprehend  that  one  is  not 
understood.  If  he  nods  his  head  sagely 
and  says  nothing,  one  is  probably  grateful 
and  passes  on  to  the  next,  thinking  that 
he  is  most  entertaining.  But  in  that 
society  where  one  sometimes  sits  dov^n  and 
breathes,  where  conversation  is  considered 
as  a  fine  art,  and  where  talk  is  a  mutual 
game  of  battledoor  and  shuttlecock,  then 
it  is  that  your  stupid  man  looms  up  on 
the  horizon  like  a  blanket  of  clouds. 

In  America,  particularly,  conversation  is 
something  which  not  even  the  French,  who 
approach  it  most  nearly,  can  thoroughly 
understand,  for  with  all  its  blinding  nim- 
bleness  and  kaleidoscopic  changes  there 
is  a  substratum  of  Puritan  morality  which 
holds  some  things  sacred — too  sacred  even 
to  argue  in  public — and  one  who  transgresses 
turns  off  the  colored  lights,  and  lo !  your 
conversation  is  all  in  grays  and  browns. 
To  converse  properly  in  America  one  must 
possess  not  only  a  nimble  wit  and  a  broad 
understanding,  but  he  must  take  into  con- 


168  THE    STUPID    MAN 

sideration  one's  pedigree,  and  the  effect  of 
the  climate. 

This  practically  bars  the  stupid  man  from 
ever  hearing  the  sound  of  his  own  voice 
outside  the  secluded  walls  of  his  own  home 
— or  should.  It  ought  also  to  bar  the  sim- 
ply witty  man  ;  for  what  is  more  jarring 
than  a  misplaced  wit  or  an  ill-timed  jocu- 
larity ? 

No,  the  chief  requisite  for  a  seat  among 
the  glorious  company  of  the  elect  is  a  deep- 
seeing,  far-reaching,  sensitive  comprehen- 
sion •  a  capacity  to  see  not  only  through  a 
thing  but  over  it  and  under  it  and  beyond 
it ;  to  see  not  only  its  derivation  and  ances- 
try, but  its  purport  and  import  and  influ- 
ence and  posterity ;  to  detect  the  inner 
meaning  and  the  double  meaning,  and  to 
smile  alone  at  its  surface  meaning.  There 
are  those  of  us,  particularly  women,  who 
must  have  this  all-enveloping  comprehension 
from  others  if  we  are  to  be  thought  fit  to  live. 
Our  conversation  is  such  that,  if  we  were 
taken  literally,  we  deserve  to  be  strangled. 

In  this  day  of  mad  competition  in  every 
walk  in  life,  it  is  not  those  who  can  shout 


THE   STUPID    MAN  169 

the  loudest,  even  in  those  busy  marts  where 
voice  reigns  supreme,  who  are  going  to  be 
heard.  No  one  man  can  continue  to  shout 
the  loudest.  A  momentary  audience  and  a 
raw  throat  are  the  most  he  can  expect.  But 
it  is  he  who  can  exaggerate  the  most  in- 
telligently and  overpaint  the  most  subtly. 
That  sort  of  impertinence  will  attract  the 
eye  and  ear  of  the  most  loudly  howling  mob. 
Even  the  wayfarer  gets  an  inkling  from  a 
poster,  but  it  is  a  man  of  the  widest  com- 
prehension who  gets  the  whole  truth  from 
the  subtlest  exaggeration,  and  he  who  pos- 
sesses a  sense  of  humor  who  realizes  its 
acuteness. 

To  persons  of  this  ilk  the  stupid  man  is 
a  calamity  compared  to  which  the  loss  of 
fortune  and  back-door  begging  would  be  a 
luxury. 

But  of  course  there  are  grades  of  stupidity 
even  among  stupid  men,  and  of  these  the 
educated  stupid  man  is  perhaps  the  most 
exhausting,  because  a  woman  is  constantly 
led  into  trying  to  converse  with  him,  hav- 
ing heard  rumors  that  he  is  a  college 
man,  or  that  he  has  written  a  book  on 


1 70  THE   STUPID    MAN 

mathematics.  If  a  man  is  a  genuine  fool, 
of  course  one  would  merely  show  him  pict- 
ures, or  play  games  with  him,  and  so  save 
brain  tissue.  But  with  the  deceptive  half- 
way man,  one  is  defenceless. 

A  single  instance  of  a  bona-fide  conver- 
sation will  serve  as  a  fearful  warning  to  the 
unwary. 

A  graduate  of  a  German  university,  a 
man  who  has  written  three  books  and  has 
a  reputation  for  always  winning  his  law- 
suits, sought  me  out  after  a  dinner,  with 
the  fatal  accuracy  of  a  man  who  has  dined 
to  repletion  and  wishes  to  be  amused. 

Possibly  because  I  also  had  dined  and 
was  therefore  affable,  I  endeavored  to  see 
if  there  was  any  forgotten  corner  of  his 
mind,  any  blind  alley  I  hitherto  had  left 
unexplored,  where  I  might  find  mine  own 
and  feel  at  home. 

His  face  was  dull,  heavy,  unemotional, 
but  I  said  in  sprightly  tones  to  coax  his 
lethargy : 

"  I  have  made  such  a  delicious  discovery 
to-day.  I  have  found  that  Carlyle  has  given 
the  most  acute  definition  of  humor  I  ever 


THE   STUPID    MAN  171 

read.  Isn't  that  rather  surprising,  when 
Carlyle's  humor  is  rather  lumbering  ?" 

He  thought  a  moment. 

"It  is,"  he  said,  carefully,  with  that  want 
of  recklessness  which  should  endear  him  to 
a  stone  image. 

"Do  you -know  it,  or  shall  I  tell  you?" 
I  said,  with  fatal  geniality. 

Another  pause. 

"Tell  me,"  he  said,  heavily,  wadding  his 
mind  with  cotton,  for  fear  some  lightness 
should  percolate  through  it. 

"  Why,  he  said  that  humor  was  an  appre- 
ciation of  the  under  side  of  things.  Isn't 
that  delicious  ?" 

I  spoke  with  unctuous  satisfaction,  for  I 
really  expected  him  to  comprehend.  He 
looked  at  my  beaming  countenance  with 
grave  suspicion,  and  slowly  reddened.  He 
said  nothing.  I  still  smiled,  but  my  smile 
was  fast  freezing. 

"Well?"  I  said,  impatiently. 

"You  are  jesting,"  he  said.  "That  isn't 
the  real  answer." 

"Why,  yes,  it  is.  Do  you  mean  to  say 
that  you  don't  understand  ?" 


I72  THE    STUPID    MAN 

"You  jest  so  much.     I  never  can  tell — 
he  broke  off,  helplessly. 

"  But  surely  you  see  that,"  I  urged. 
"  How  would  you  define  humor?" 

"  Why,  humor  is  something  funny.  There's 
nothing  funny  about — er — that  that  Carlyle 
said." 

"  Yes,  but  it's  only  a  very  delicate  and 
occult  way  of  exhibiting  his  acuteness,"  I 
said.  "  Don't  you  see  ?  An  appreciation 
of  the  under  side  of  things — the  side  that 
does  not  lie  on  the  surface." 

"  Are  you  serious  ?"  he  asked,  as  I  leaned 
back  to  rest  from  my  toil. 

"  Perfectly.  But  I  can  hardly  believe 
that  you  are." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  really  see 
anything  in  that  definition  ?" 

"I  do,"  I  said,  with  ominous  distinct- 
ness. 

My  manner  indicated  his  stupidity,  and 
he  resented  it.  He  grew  excited. 

"  Now,  tell  me,  on  your  honor,  do  you 
really  see  anything  funnier  in  the  under 
side  of  that  sofa  than  in  the  top  side  ?" 

I  could  have  screamed  with  anguish.    But, 


THE   STUPID    MAN  173 

being  in  company,  I  only  smote  my  hands 
together  in  my  impotence  and  prayed  for 
death. 

The  tension  was  relieved  by  the  young 
son  of  our  hostess  in  the  library  just  be- 
yond having  overheard  our  conversation. 
He  laid  his  hand  over  his  mouth  and  went 
into  such  convulsions  of  silent  laughter, 
all  the  time  writhing  and  twisting  his  lean 
body  into  such  contortions  that  in  watching 
his  extraordinary  gymastics  over  the  head 
of  my  unconscious  vis-a-vis,  and  wondering 
if  the  boy  ever  could  untie  himself,  I  for- 
got my  suffering.  I  even  relaxed  my  mental 
strain  and  forgot  the  stupid  man. 

Would  I  could  keep  on  forgetting  him. 


THE   NEW  WOMAN 

"  You  have  taught  me 
To  be  in  love  with  noble  thoughts? 


THE   NEW  WOMAN 


THAT  clever  bon-mot,  "  To  say '  everybody 
is  talking  about  him '  is  a  eulogy.  To  say 
'every  one  is  talking  about  her'  is  an 
elegy,"  is  no  longer  true,  more's  the  pity. 
More's  the  pity,  I  mean,  because  such  a  de- 
licious bit  deserves  a  longer  life.  I  could 
weep  over  the  early  death  of  an  epigram 
with  a  hearty  spirit,  which  is  second  only  to 
the  grief  I  feel  at  a  good  story  spoiled  for 
relation's  sake.  Cleverness,  like  beauty,  is 
its  own  excuse  for  being,  and  the  first  attri- 
bute of  the  new  woman  is  her  cleverness. 
It  is  the  new  woman  who  is  responsible 
for  the  death  of  that  epigram.  But  as  she 
did  not  take  an  active  part  in  the  mur- 
der, but  was  only  an  accessory  after  the 
fact,  let  us  hope  that  she  will  escape  with  as 
light  a  sentence  as  possible  from  that  stern 


178  THE    NEW   WOMAN 

old  judge,  public  opinion,  who  is  not  her 
friend. 

The  newspapers  have  ridiculed  the  new 
woman  to  such  an  extent,  and  their  ridicule 
is  so  popular,  that  it  requires  an  act  of  phys- 
ical courage  to  stand  up  in  her  defence  and 
to  tell  the  public  that  the  bloomer  girl  is  not 
new ;  that  they  have  had  the  newspaper  crea- 
tion— like  the  poor — with  them  always;  that 
they  have  passed  over  the  real  new  woman 
without  a  second  glance.  In  other  words,  to 
assure  them  as  delicately  as  possible  that 
they  have  been  barking  up  the  wrong  tree. 

The  first  thing  which  endears  the  new 
woman  to  me  personally,  more  even  than 
her  cleverness,  is  that  she  has  a  sense  of 
humor.  You  may  deny  that,  if  you  want 
to.  I  firmly  believe  it,  but  I  am  not  infallible. 
Thank  Heaven  that  I  am  not.  I  abominate 
those  people  who  are  always  right.  You 
can't  amuse  yourself  by  picking  flaws  in 
them.  They  are  so  irritatingly  conclusive. 
Now  I  am  never  conclusive,  and  you  ought 
to  be  glad  of  it.  It  makes  it  so  much  pleas- 
anter  for  you  to  be  able  to  disagree  with  me 
logically. 


THE   NEW    WOMAN  179 

Why  have  men  always  possessed  an  ex- 
clusive right  to  the  sense  of  humor  ?  I 
believe  it  is  because  they  live  out-of-doors 
more.  Humor  is  an  out-of-door  virtue.  It  re- 
quires ozone  and  the  light  of  the  sun.  And 
when  the  new  woman  came  out-of-doors  to 
live,  and  mingled  with  men  and  newer  wom- 
en, she  saw  funny  things,  and  her  sense  of 
humor  began  to  grow  and  thrive.  The  fun 
of  the  situation  is  entirely  lost  if  you  stay  at 
home  too  much. 

Now  don't  let  the  supersensitive  men — 
who  always  want  women  to  pursue  the  per- 
fectly lady-like  employment  of  knitting  gray 
socks — don't  let  them  have  a  fit  right  here  for 
fear  women  have  come  out-of-doors  to  stay 
and  are  never  going  in-doors  again.  Even 
women,  my  dear  sirs,  know  enough  to  go  in 
when  it  rains.  They  love  a  hearth-rug  quite 
as  well  as  a  cat  does.  A  cat  and  a  woman 
always  come  home  to  the  hearth-rug.  But 
there  is  very  little  mental  exhilaration  in 
a  hearth-rug.  Plenty  of  comfort,  but  lit- 
tle humor.  The  real  excitement  of  life,  at 
least  to  a  cat,  is  when  in  a  morning  stroll 
abroad  she  goes  out  of  her  sphere — the 


180  THE   NEW    WOMAN 

hearth-rug — and  meets  some  feline  friend  to 
whom  she  extends  a  claw,  playful  or  other- 
wise ;  or  possibly  meets  some  merry  puppy 
which  induces  her  to  move  rapidly  up  the 
nearest  tree  with  an  agility  which  you  never 
would  believe  the  mother  of  a  family  could 
boast  if  you  had  not  been  an  eye-witness  to 
the  interesting  scene.  Such  an  encounter 
will  not  induce  her  to  want  to  stay  up  a 
tree.  It  only  makes  the  safety  of  the 
hearth-rug  more  inviting.  Now,  if  she  al- 
ways remained  on  the  hearth-rug,  how  could 
we  tell,  should  the  hearth-rug  be  invaded  in 
the  absence  of  her  natural  protectors,  that 
she  could  defend  herself  ?  For  my  part,  I 
am  glad  to  know,  when  I  leave  her,  that  she 
is  not  so  helpless  or  so  sleepy  as  she  looks. 
It  is  a  great  thing  to  know  that  a  cat's  tree- 
climbing  abilities  are  not  hopelessly  dor- 
mant. It  does  not  make  her  purr  the  less 
when  she  is  stroked.  Her  fur  is  as  soft,  her 
ways  are  as  gentle  as  they  ever  were,  and  as 
she  lies  there  so  quietly  upon  the  hearth-rug 
she  looks  as  though  she  never  had  left  it. 
Only  once  in  a  while  she  regards  you  out 
of  one  eye  in  a  companionable  way,  as  who 


THE   NEW   WOMAN  181 

should  say,  "  That's  all  right.  You  know  I 
can  climb  a  tree  when  occasion  requires." 

The  dear  new  woman  !  I  like  her.  Per- 
haps she  is  crude  in  her  newness.  Give  her 
time.  Perhaps  she  makes  a  little  too  much 
of  her  freedom.  How  do  you  know  what  she 
suffered  before  she  became  new  ?  Perhaps 
she  has  her  faults.  Are  you  perfect  ? 

Of  course  there  is  the  woman  who  shrieks 
on  political  platforms  and  neglects  her  hus- 
band, and  lets  her  children  grow  up  like 
little  ruffians  ;  the  woman  who  wears  bloom- 
ers and  bends  over  her  handle-bar  like  a 
monkey  on  a  stick ;  the  woman  who  wants 
to  hold  office  with  men  and  smoke  and  talk 
like  men — alas,  that  there  is  that  variety  of 
woman — but  she  is  not  new.  Pray  did  you 
never  see  her  before  she  wore  bloomers  ? 
Bloomers  are  no  worse  than  the  sort  of 
clothes  she  used  to  wear.  Her  swagger  is 
no  more  pronounced  now  than  it  used  to  be 
in  skirts.  She  has  always  had  bloomer  in- 
stincts. You  don't  pretend  to  declare,  do 
you,  that  there  never  were  unconventional 
women,  ill-dressed  and  rowdy  women,  before 
the  new  woman  was  heard  of?  That  is  the 


182  THE    NEW    WOMAN 

great  mistake  you  make.  These  women  are 
not  new  women.  We've  always  had  them. 
We  never,  unfortunately,  have  been  without 
them. 

The  real  new  woman  is  a  creature  quite 
different.  She  is  one  whom  you  would  wish 
to  know.  She  is  one  whom  you  would  in- 
vite to  your  most  select  dinners.  You  would 
be  better  men  if  you  had  more  friends  like 
her,  and  broader- minded  women  if  you 
dropped  a  few  of  those  who  hand  you 
doughnut  recipes  over  the  back  fence,  and 
who  entertain  you  with  the  history  of  the 
baby's  measles,  and  how  they  are  managing 
to  meet  the  payments  on  their  little  house. 
I  am  not  unsympathetic,  either,  with  the 
measles  or  the  payments,  but  I  prefer  the 
subjects  of  conversation  which  a  new  wom- 
an selects.  There  is  more  ozone  in  them. 

The  new  woman  whom  I  mean  is  silk- 
lined.  She  is  nearly  always  pretty.  She 
is  always  clever.  She  is  always  a  lady,  and 
she  is  always  good.  Perhaps,  to  the  cyni- 
cal, that  combination  sounds  as  if  she  might 
not  be  interesting;  but  she  is.  Of  course 
not  always.  One  may  have  all  those  gifts, 


THE   NEW   WOMAN  183 

and  yet  not  know  how  to  make  use  of  them 
for  other  people's  benefit.  The  gift  of  being 
interesting  is  a  distinct  one  by  itself.  But 
the  new  woman,  having  fresh  and  outside 
interests,  is  generally  able  to  talk  of  them 
delightfully. 

The  new  woman  is  new  only  in  the  sense 
that  she  has  opened  her  eyes  and  has  begun 
to  see  the  value  of  the  simple,  common, 
every-day  truths  which  lie  nearest  to  her. 
The  whole  world  becomes  new  to  those  who 
suddenly  awake  to  the  beauties  which  they 
never  had  thought  of  before. 

Once  women  taught  their  daughters  house- 
keeping and  sewing  from  stern  principle, 

and  made  it  neither  beautiful  nor  attractive. 

* 

Then  house-keeping  went  out  of  fashion. 

Feather-headed  boys  married  trivial  girls, 
and  began  to  make  a  home  without  the  first 
gleam  of  knowledge  as  to  how  the  thing 
should  be  done.  The  foolish  little  wife 
knew  not  how  to  cook  or  sew.  The  fool- 
ish little  husband  said  he  was  glad  of  it. 
He  didn't  want  his  wife  to  wear  herself  out 
in  the  kitchen.  Servants  could  do  such 
things.  So  they  hired  servants  more  igno- 


1 84  THE   NEW   WOMAN 

rant  than  themselves,  "  and  the  last  state  of 
that  man  was  worse  than  the  first."  Chil- 
dren came  to  them.  That  was  the  most 
pitiful  part  of  all.  A  house  may  be  bad- 
ly managed  and  ignorantly  cared  for,  and 
people  do  not  die  of  it,  or  become  warped 
or  crippled,  but  the  soul  of  a  child,  to  say 
nothing  of  the  helpless  little  body,  can  be 
ruined  utterly  through  the  irresponsibility 
of  the  criminally  ignorant  people  to  whom 
the  poor  little  thing  is  sent.  Their  igno- 
rance is  so  dense  and  deep-searching  that 
they  never  know  that  they  are  ignorant. 
But  back  of  it  all  there  is  a  reason.  A  big- 
oted, senseless,  false,  and  misnamed  deli- 
cacy. Mothers  reared  their  daughters  and 
sent  them  to  fulfil  their  mission  in  life,  of 
being  wives  and  mothers,  versed  in  every- 
thing except  the  two  things  they  were  des- 
tined to  be.  It  was  as  if  a  physician  were 
taught  architecture,  music,  and  painting,  and 
then  sent  out  to  practise  his  unskill  in  medi- 
cine upon  a  helpless  humanity. 

Then  the  new  woman  opened  her  eyes. 
She  read  those  sturdy  words  which  are 
much  quoted,  but  which  never  can  be  re- 


THE   NEW   WOMAN  185 

peated  too  often  :  "The  situation  which  has 
not  its  duty,  its  ideals,  was  never  yet  occu- 
pied by  man.  Yes,  here,  in  this  poor,  mis- 
erable, hampered,  despicable  Actual,  where- 
in thou  even  now  standest,  here  or  nowhere 
is  thy  Ideal ;  work  it  out  therefrom,  and 
working,  live,  be  free.  Fool !  the  Ideal  is 
in  thyself ;  thy  condition  is  but  the  stuff 
thou  art  to  shape  this  same  Ideal  out  of; 
what  matters  whether  such  stuff  be  of  this 
sort  or  that,  so  the  form  thou  give  it  be 
heroic,  be  poetic  ?  Oh,  thou  that  pinest  in 
the  imprisonment  of  the  Actual,  and  criest 
bitterly  to  the  gods  for  a  kingdom  where- 
in to  rule  and  create,  know  this  of  a  truth 
— the  thing  thou  seekest  is  already  with 
thee,  '  here,  or  nowhere,'  couldst  thou  only 
see." 

It  read  like  book-learning  when  applied 
to  other  women.  It  read  like  a  revelation 
when  applied  to  herself.  She  thought  what 
her  mission  was.  To  make  a  home ;  to  be 
a  good  wife ;  to  understand  and  teach  lit- 
tle children.  And  where  do  you  find  the 
new  woman  now  ?  In  the  kindergarten  col- 
leges ;  in  university  settlements ;  attend- 


186  THE   NEW   WOMA1SF 

ing  mothers'  meetings  ;  teaching  ignorant 
mothers  how  to  understand  the  tender  souls 
and  delicate  bodie's  of  the  dear  little  creat- 
ures committed  to  their  loving  but  unwise 
care.  You  find  them  well  prepared  by  a 
course  of  study  to  accept  the  responsibili- 
ties of  life  when  their  time  comes.  Is  that 
trivial  ?  Is  that  a  subject  to  sneer  at  or  to 
jest  about?  Rather  it  is  the  hope  of  the 
nation. 

Legislation  cannot  satisfactorily  restrict 
immigration.  Laws  do  not  forbid  the  crim- 
inal from  marrying  and  the  insane  from 
being  born.  All  the  masculine  wisdom  in 
the  world  cannot  prevent  the  State  from 
annually  paying  millions  of  dollars  for  the 
support  of  those  who  are  foredoomed 
through  generations  of  ignorance  and  crime 
— crime  which  too  often  comes  only  from 
ignorance — to  fill  your  jails  and  asylums. 
Who  is  doing  anything  to  remedy?  The 
men.  Who  is  doing  anything  to  prevent? 
The  women.  The  new  woman,  the  sneered 
at,  the  ridiculed  and  abused,  caricatured 
by  the  cartoonist,  derided  by  the  press,  is 
going  quietly  to  work  with  jail-schools,  with 


THE   NEW   WOMAN  187 

free  kindergartens  in  tenement  districts,  with 
college  settlements,  to  begin  with  the  care 
of  mothers  and  children.  That  is  just  one  of 
the  things  the  new  woman  is  doing.  Is  she 
a  poor  creature  ?  Is  she  wearing  bloomers  ? 
Is  she  masculine  or  unwomanly?  Rather 
she  possesses  attributes  almost  divine  in 
that  she  strikes  at  the  very  root  of  the 
matter,  and  begins  a  course  of  action  which, 
if  carried  out,  will  do  what  all  the  men  in 
creation  can  never  cure.  She  will  prevent. 

The  new  woman  is  young.  The  new 
woman  is  oftener  a  pretty  girl  than  other- 
wise. They  are  not  poor  girls  either,  who 
are  doing  these  things.  They  are  not 
obliged  to  earn  their  daily  bread.  They 
are  the  daughters  of  the  rich.  They  are  the 
travelled,  cultured,  delicately  reared  girls. 
They  are  such  girls  as,  two  generations  ago, 
would  have  disdained  anything  but  accom- 
plishments, who  were  only  charitable  with 
their  money,  and  who  never  dreamed  of 
giving  their  own  time  to  such  work.  They 
were  girls  who  considered  their  education 
finished  when  they  left  school. 

I  glory  in  the  new  woman  in  that  so  often 


188  THE    NEW    WOMAN 

she  is  rich  and  beautiful.  It  is  easy  enough 
to  be  good  if  you  are  plain.  In  fact,  there 
is  nothing  else  left  for  a  plain  woman  to 
do.  But  take  those  lovely  girls  who  are 
tempted  by  society  to  idle  away  their  days 
and  waste  their  lives  listening  to  a  flattery 
which  may  be  but  a  thing  of  the  moment, 
and  let  them  have  sense  to  see  through  its 
hollowness,  and  to  want  to  be  something 
and  do  something,  and  it  becomes  heroic. 

Perhaps  it  is  only  a  fad.  Then  Heaven 
send  more  fads.  If  it  is  the  fashion  to  have 
a  vocation  and  to  educate  one's  self  along 
these  lines  which  never  were  heard  of  a  few 
years  ago,  then  for  once  fashion  has  acci- 
dentally become  noble. 

It  strikes  me  rather  that  the  reign  of 
common-sense  has  begun — that  the  age  of 
utility  has  come.  When  nine  out  of  every 
ten  of  the  girls  you  meet  in  smart  society 
have  a  distinct  vocation  of  their  own  ;  when 
a  girl  who  only  sings  or  plays  or  crochets 
is  considered  by  her  sister -women  to  be 
a  butterfly;  when  society  girls  are  being 
trained  nurses;  when,  if  you  are  paying 
calls  upon  a  fashionable  friend,  you  are 


THE    NEW    WOMAN  189 

quite  apt  to  be  told  that  she  is  living  at 
Hull  House  this  month;  when  a  girl  whose 
face  generally  appears  in  the  society  column 
suddenly  comes  out  as  the  composer  of  a 
new  song ;  when  a  girl  who  dances  best  at 
balls  calmly  announces  that  she  is  taking  a 
course  at  the  university;  when  everything 
nowadays  is  gone  into  so  seriously,  the 
time  has  come  to  look  the  question  of  the 
new  woman  squarely  in  the  face — to  put  a 
stop  to  cheap  witticisms  at  her  expense  and 
to  give  her  your  honest  respect. 

The  new  woman  has  attacked  the  prob- 
lem of  how  to  live.  Not  how  to  live  for 
show,  not  how  to  veneer  successfully,  but 
how  to  get  the  most  good  out  of  life.  She 
is  not  simply  endeavoring  to  kill  time  as 
she  once  was.  She  is  trying  to  live  each 
day  for  itself.  She  is  not  living  so  much  in 
the  to-morrows  which  never  come.  Having 
begun  to  earn  her  own  money,  she  is  learn- 
ing the  value  of  her  father's — a  thing  the 
American  father  has  been  trying  to  teach 
her  for  fifty  or  a  hundred  years,  but  she 
could  not  learn  because  she  saw  it  come  so 
easily  and  she  let  it  go  so  freely. 


I90  THE    NEW    WOMAN 

A  man  said  to  me  not  long  ago,  "  What 
has  got  into  the  girls  ?  Has  it  become  the 
fashion  to  economize  ?  All  the  nicest  girls 
I  know  are  talking  of  the  value  of  money 
and  of  how  much  is  wasted  unthinkingly. 
Are  we  poor  bachelors  to  take  courage  and 
believe  that  we  can  afford  one  of  these 
beautiful  luxuries  in  wives  ?" 

Alas,  it  is  anything  but  a  hint  to  take 
courage;  for  this  heavenly  phase  of  the  new 
woman  means  that  when  she  has  learned 
that  she  can  support  herself,  so  that  in  case 
her  riches  take  wings  she  need  not  be  forced 
to  drudge  at  uncongenial  employment,  or 
to  marry  for  a  home,  she  will  be  more  par- 
ticular than  ever  in  the  kind  of  a  man  she 
marries.  For  in  fitting  herself  for  marriage 
she  is  learning  quite  as  well  the  kind  of 
husband  she  ought  to  have.  And  she  will 
not  be  as  apt  to  marry  a  man  on  account 
of  his  clothes  or  because  he  dances  divinely 
as  once  she  might  have  done. 

I  do  not  mean  to  say  that  the  new  woman 
will  not  marry.  In  point  of  fact  she  will — 
if  properly  urged  by  the  right  man.  But 
she  will  not  marry  so  early,  so  hurriedly, 


THE    NEW   WOMAN  191 

nor  so  ill-advisedly  as  before.  And  there- 
fore the  men  whom  new  women  marry  will 
do  well  to  realize  the  compliment  of  her 
.choice;  for  it  will  mean  that,  according  to 
her  light,  he  has  been  weighed  in  the 
balance  and  not  found  wanting.  Of  course 
the  other  women  marry  on  that  principle 
too.  The  only  difference  between  the  new 
woman  and  her  sisters  is  in  the  amount  of 
her  light  and  the  use  she  makes  of  it. 

It  is  the  man  who  marries  the  new  woman 
who  is  going  to  get  the  most  out  of  this  life; 
for  even  in  living  there  is  everything  in 
knowing  how.  And  far  from  leaving  man 
out  of  her  problem  in  life,  her  philosophy 
is  teaching  her  to  look  for  his  possibilities 
with  the  same  anxiety  that  she  employs  in 
studying  her  own;  that  to  adapt  herself  to 
his  individuality  need  not  necessarily  im- 
peril her  own ;  that  the  first  element  in  the 
forming  of  this  perfect  home  which  it  is  her 
ambition  to  establish  is  perfect  congeniality 
of  spirit  between  herself  and  her  husband. 

It  is  as  if  the  new  woman  were  striving, 
by  making  the  best  of  her  present  environ- 
ments, and  simply  developing  her  woman 


IQ2  THE    NEW    WOMAN 

nature  instead  of  struggling  to  usurp  man's, 
to  enunciate  a  philosophy  of  life  which 
shall  so  dignify  homely  duties  and  beauti- 
fy the  commonplace  that  her  creed  might 
well  be : 

"We  shall  pass  through  this  world  but 
once.  If  there  be  any  kindness  we  can 
show,  or  any  good  thing  we  can  do  to  any 
fellow-being,  let  us  do  it  now.  Let  us  not 
defer  nor  neglect  it,  for  we  shall  not  pass 
this  way  again." 


THE    END 


University  of  California 

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Return  this  material  to  the  library 

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oc-Tun 

AUG081990 

OCT011990 

RECTO  LD-URP 

JAN  21  jq 
DEC  12  1930 


000  036  390    3 


